Second Act
by gleefulmusings
Summary: Fresh from graduate school and not long after a devastating personal tragedy, Kurt Hummel finds himself named guardian of his two cousins, Elena and Jeremy Gilbert. Mystic Falls and its denizens are in for a rude awakening when he hits town. Magical!Kurt
1. Distant Relations

**Author's Note**: I'm very new to _The Vampire Diaries_ fandom, so this story is something of an experiment, one which I'm not sure will continue. This is a story I have a great interest in writing, but I'm not sure how often it will be updated, if ever. I'm always reticent about stepping foot in a new fandom, but I love most of these characters, so I've decided to give it a try. If you choose to read this, I hope you'll enjoy it. For those who are dedicated enthusiasts of TVD, I hope you'll forgive what is sure to be my many missteps. I ask that you allow me time and extend me patience as I fumble my way through this. Thank you.

Also, this has not been proofed yet. I expect this chapter will be replaced with a more polished version at a later date.

* * *

Kurt Hummel was awakened by the sound of his own screaming.

His eyes flashed open and was blinded by the darkness that enveloped him. Blinking harshly to force his eyes to adjust, his breathing ragged, he winced when his fingers cramped in protest to how tightly he was gripping the sheets. He coughed against the imaginary smoke that was choking him.

He released his hold and reached reflexively for Sam's solid form, but finding nothing. Grief swelled within him once more, his heart as empty as his bed.

Seven months and the loss hadn't abated in the slightest. He doubted it ever would. In a very strange yet visceral way, he was grateful for that. His pain over Sam's loss seemed, at times, to be the only thing tethering him to this life. More than once, he wished the drunk driver had killed him as well.

Tears blurred his eyes, but he forced them back, as he had been for the past two months. He knew Sam would be furious with him for that; for so many things, really.

He had spent the first three weeks after Sam's death in the hospital, recovering from his injuries, ones which he had deemed so minor as to be offensive. What did he care about a broken collarbone and concussion when the man he had been intending to marry was lying dead in the morgue three floors down?

The guilt he felt for surviving in place of Sam often paralyzed him, only compounded by the guilt he felt for his complete disinterest in the life waiting for him to begin anew. How was he supposed to go on as though his entire world hadn't shattered? Worse, many of his friends were constantly needling him to do just that, arguing that Sam would've have wanted him to move on with his life, as if it were as easy as saying those words.

Immediately following the accident, there had been the requisite sympathy and lamentations. Mercedes had flown in from Los Angeles and cooed and clucked over him, not really knowing what to say. They hadn't been close since their senior year, and while they maintained the shared delusion that they were still best friends, they hardly knew each other anymore. She was already working on her second divorce as she prepared for her third album.

Mercedes had never really forgiven him for not following in her footsteps, for giving up his dreams of stardom, which, in truth, he had abandoned before college, and going off to study something as banal as medicine. He knew, even though she would never admit it, that she had been jealous of his multiple Ivy League acceptances while she had only received entry to Ohio State. She had skipped college altogether, preferring to take her chances out West. That she had succeeded, and quite marvelously, in fact, did little to quell her resentment.

She had never approved of his relationship with Sam, still suspicious that he had done something to break up her and Sam during their senior year. She knew it was ridiculous, of course, but blaming him made it easier than blaming herself, or the boy from Dalton with whom she had cheated.

Still, she had sat next to his bed and held his hand for those long three weeks, fluffing up his pillows and handling as much as she could for him. She had left immediately after the service, but he was still appreciative. They had spoken rarely since then, but he knew, as did she, that if something truly dire ever happened to either one, the other would be there in a heartbeat.

Kurt sighed, wishing he had the courage to call and allow her to baby him as he shook off the effects of the nightmare.

He gingerly stepped into his slippers and shuffled into the kitchen, determined to make himself a mug of warm milk, the thought of which immediately set his mind on Finn. He smiled and shook his head. He loved his brother dearly, but Finn had yet to grow up, despite the fact that he now had a child of his own.

It was still bizarre to think of Finn and Rachel as a married couple. They had taken the plunge immediately following his graduation from Stony Brook University and hers from NYADA. Finn had double-majored in physical education and history, shockingly passing both with high marks. Kurt still believed Rachel had written most of Finn's papers, but that was neither here nor there. She had graduated with honors, but her time in the city had drastically changed her outlook on life.

In Lima, Rachel had been a star, the big fish in a rather small pond. Her first year at NYADA had seen her shed her rose-colored glasses, finally admitting that, while talented, she wasn't very unique. There had been twelve girls in her class alone with almost identical voices. Always determined, she had stuck with the program, however, and wringed from it every drop of training possible, honing her craft with a relentless zeal.

She had known Broadway was a long-shot, and rather than pounding the pavement for a decade, waiting for a break that would see her playing half her age, she had married Finn and settled on Long Island, Finn already having procured a position at a local high school. Slightly more than nine months after their wedding - and Kurt had seen people mentally counting - Rachel had given birth to their first child, a little girl named Cosette. As much as Kurt wanted to ridicule that choice of name, he hadn't the heart. He had been the first to hold his niece after her parents, and had fallen completely in love.

Three months later, Rachel had been back in fighting form and begun her domination of the Long Island theater community, where she was in high demand and once again a star. Everyone knew, however, that she was far more interested in being a good mother - which she absolutely was. She doted on her child without suffocating her. Kurt didn't know how she managed it, given that she was _Rachel Berry_, but all the kudos to her.

Outside of Kurt himself, it had been Rachel who was most devastated by Sam's death. She and Sam hadn't been very close, but she had understood and respected what Sam had meant to Kurt.

Kurt carefully poured the milk from the pan into the waiting ceramic mug. He sat at his small café table and surveyed his kitchen. There wasn't much left to pack.

He was of two minds about relinquishing the apartment. On the one hand, it held so many good memories of his life with Sam, even though they hadn't planned on staying there once Kurt graduated from his Masters program. On the other, those same memories were slowly killing him. Everything reminded him of Sam, from old sneakers still waiting by the front door to the way the pillows smelled. Sam was everywhere, all the time.

His vision once again blurred as a new onslaught of tears demanded release. He blinked them back, inhaling deeply, and stared down at the table.

There was no logical reason to keep the apartment. He had put off moving for as long as possible, tenaciously clinging to the idea that he couldn't break his lease, though he could have easily afforded the penalties. However, now the lease was up, and next month would see all the units converted to condos. He couldn't see the point of shelling out hundreds of thousands of dollars for a condominium that was making him miserable, no matter how much it reminded him of Sam.

The bottom line was that Sam was gone, and no matter how many times he opened the door and called out a greeting, Sam was never going to answer. He had to stop looking around every corner for a mop of fake blond hair. He had to stop making a full pot of coffee every morning and then drinking the last drop, not wanting to waste it. He had to stop wearing Sam's cologne.

This time, he didn't stop the tears from falling.

"I hate you for leaving me," he whispered. "How could you leave me all alone?"

And he was alone.

His father was dead. Sam was dead. Finn was married with a baby. Carole had stayed in Lima. Mercedes was in Los Angeles. The rest of the glee club was scattered throughout the country. He hadn't spoken with Noah, Mike, or Artie in years. They had come to the funeral, and he hadn't spoken with them then, either. Of course, he hadn't spoken to anyone, other than Sam's family.

He still wasn't sure when it had happened, when Sam's family had become his own. He didn't remember when he had started addressing Savannah and Scott as Mom and Dad, or when he had begun to regard Stacy and Stevie as his own brother and sister.

He knew both Finn and Carole harbored some resentment about that, but he honestly hadn't been able to bring himself to care. For the most part, they were happy for him, and they had loved Sam in their own ways.

He was unable to qualify their loss; their grief angered him. Sam had been his, not theirs. It was all he could do not to scream into the phone during Savannah's weekly calls to check in on him. He knew he was selfish. He knew he should respect the fact that the woman had lost her _son_, but it was difficult. For six years, he and Sam had made a life with each other in Providence, cocooned in their own world, and now that Sam was gone and that world was in pieces, he was furious that others were intruding upon it.

He sighed, gripping the mug so hard that the handle snapped off.

He had to leave. He needed to be away from the city and his friends. Providence no longer felt like home, and all of the people he knew there knew him as part of a couple. For the past six years, he had been _Kurt and Sam_. Now he was just _Kurt_ again, and no one knew who Kurt was, including Kurt himself.

No, he had to get out of there. The sooner the better.

He might not have wanted to start over, but he could no longer pretend it wasn't necessary.

* * *

Two days later, the apartment was spotlessly clean.

Whatever he hadn't thrown out, he had donated to charity: most of Sam's clothes, except the few overlarge shirts Kurt had kept to wear for bed, and a good portion of his own wardrobe, save the things Sam had given him which he had never worn. It seemed so stupid now, not wearing the things Sam had painstakingly picked out and bought with his own money just because of some fashion standard that was ultimately irrelevant.

Most of the small appliances and all of the furniture had been sold on Craigslist. There was nothing Kurt wanted to keep, as most of it had been of mediocre quality, transitory placeholders until they could furnish a home of their own in the way they wanted.

There were a few boxes of Sam's possessions he had sent to various members of the Evans family, things he hadn't been able to part with after the funeral. All of the photographs had been copied onto his laptop and the originals sent to Savannah. He sent Stevie all of Sam's sports paraphernalia, and his books to Stacy. Scott received Sam's diploma in Psychology from RIC.

Kurt smiled as he remembered how hard Sam had worked for that degree, how tireless he had been in overcoming his dyslexia, even though he had begged Kurt to proofread every single term paper, which Kurt had happily done.

Sam had been so much smarter than anyone, Sam included, had ever known. It was heartbreaking that a mind that sharp, a soul that pure, was gone for no good reason. Sam had desperately wanted to help people, to make his life meaningful, and he had, though he had been slow to realize it. Despite his intelligence and that incredibly gorgeous face, Sam's self-esteem had been poorer than Kurt's own, which was really saying something.

Eventually, Sam had fought his way through it and emerged on the other side. His last two years of school, he had interned at the suicide prevention center, and had been remarkably successful. More than a dozen students had written letters or made personal visits to thank him for his help. Sam had always blushed and accepted their gratitude with humility, but had never quite understood that his greatest gift, his empathy, had literally saved lives.

How could he be gone?

Logically, Kurt knew that Sam would always continue in some form, through the kids he had helped, through his donated organs, and in Kurt's own memories, but it was cold comfort.

He finished wiping down the windows in the living room and stepped back to survey his work. He nodded. Satisfactory. He startled and wondered what Coach Sylvester was doing.

He had been shocked when she had made an appearance at the funeral. He had been stunned that it was at her side that he had stood, her hand he had held as Sam was lowered into the ground. She had never said a word to him, but had held his hand tightly, anchoring him to the reality surrounding him, and had brushed aside almost everyone who had tried to approach him. She had only let Santana, Quinn, and Brittany through, and he had only allowed Brittany to hug him.

He should call them. He'd been meaning to for six months.

He really was a crap friend.

He jumped when the phone rang. He blinked slowly, the bottle of Windex slipping from his hand and falling to the floor, as his nightmare from two day previous reasserted its terror.

"Jenna," he whispered. "Oh, god, it was Jenna."

He raced to his bedroom and the closest receiver. "Jenna?" he panted into the phone.

He knew from the lengthy pause that it wasn't her. That she was, in fact, dead. That his nightmare had been her last moments.

Why hadn't he known at the time? Why hadn't he had been able to prevent it? What good was all of his supposed power if he couldn't protect the people he loved?

Elena and Jeremy. Oh, god.

"I'm trying to reach Kurt Hummel," said a timid, reedy voice.

Kurt immediately realized from the officious tone that his caller was most likely an attorney. He hated lawyers. "This is he."

"Ah. Mr. Hummel, my name is Lyle Fitzgerald. I am the attorney for your cousin, Jenna Sommers."

"When did she die?" Kurt quietly asked. He needed the confirmation. He needed to know how badly he had failed. Again.

Another stunned pause. "Two nights ago, I'm afraid."

"How?" Kurt demanded.

"There was a fire..."

Kurt tuned out the explanation as he remembered the smell of smoke clinging to him when he had awoken.

A fire. She must have died in agony. He closed his eyes.

"Mr. Fitzgerald," he interrupted, "this is obviously very upsetting news, but I'm sure there's another purpose to your call. I presume it's about Jeremy and Elena. How are they?"

"They are holding their own."

What a ridiculous phrase, Kurt thought, as he pulled the receiver from his ear and glared at it. They had lost their parents only a year ago, and now their aunt. Oh, but as long as they were _holding their own_. He barely managed to refrain from asking just what, precisely, they were holding.

"Ms. Sommers specifically stated in her last will and testament that custody of your two minor cousins was to be given to you in the event of her death..."

Kurt's eyes widened. _What?_

"Ms. Sommers' boyfriend, Alaric Saltzman, has assumed temporary guardianship."

Kurt wanted to demand an explanation for such a preposterous name. He wondered why he hadn't known Jenna was seeing someone. He couldn't even remember the last time he had spoken with her. He hadn't been able to attend the funeral for Miranda and Grayson, due to finals, and Jenna had been more than kind by excusing his absence. And then Sam had died.

"What about Grayson's brother? John, I believe."

A sharp inhalation. "Mr. Gilbert passed away last year."

Kurt was now horrified by his own behavior. He hadn't told his cousins that Sam had been killed, and while he had sequestered himself in his apartment, leaving only to finish his schooling, he had completely cut himself off from what little remained of his blood family. John had died, and no one had told him, and now Jenna was dead. What the hell was happening in that town?

"Mr. Saltzman has indicated interest in assuming permanent custody..."

"I don't think so," Kurt again interrupted, voice hard. "I'm more than happy to meet with him and discuss our options, but I'm not about to turn over my family to a man I've never met, let alone even knew existed." He cleared his throat. "When is Jenna's funeral?" he asked more sedately.

He grabbed a pen and began taking copious notes; for the next five minutes, he help up his end of the conversation with one word replies unless otherwise absolutely necessary.

Finally, he thanked the man for his call and hung up. He didn't feel guilty for cutting Fitzgerald off, as he was sure the lawyer would be submitting a bill to the estate.

He began pacing about the room.

The entire affair was ridiculous. He was twenty-four years old and in no way emotionally ready to parent two teenagers. He couldn't even imagine how Jeremy and Elena would react once they were told. He was sure they'd be furious; he certainly would be, were he in their shoes. He hadn't seen Elena since she was seven, and he'd never even met Jeremy. They knew each other enough to send birthday and holiday cards, though Jeremy had stopped sending cards years ago, but they were in no way close.

What had Jenna been _thinking?_

He could almost hear her voice: _family looks out for family, dumbass._

The corner of his mouth lifted. He supposed that was true enough. Regardless of anything else, Jeremy and Elena _were_ his family, his only family now. He was sure this Alaric person was a very nice man, but he meant what he had said to Fitzgerald: he wouldn't simply turn over Jeremy and Elena to someone he'd never met.

So, he guessed he was heading to Mystic Falls.

He wandered through his almost empty apartment.

Perhaps this was a sign. Maybe this was the next phase of his life. Even if he allowed Alaric Saltzman custody of his cousins, he still wanted to a part of their lives. He wanted them to know that they weren't alone in the world, that they still had family, even if comprised only of one person.

He'd been locked away in the haze of his own pain for so long that he had forgotten others had their own pain to consider. Jeremy and Elena had certainly been dealing with more than their share. If Saltzman checked out and the kids wanted to stay with him, Kurt would agree, but only on the condition that he himself would be a part of their lives. Granted, it was obnoxious on his part, and he was admittedly desperate for something to which he could cling, but that didn't change the fact that Jenna had specifically asked him. He wouldn't dishonor her by refusing.

He nodded to himself.

Well, if he was going to spend an extended amount of time in Mystic Falls, Virginia, he really should acquaint himself with the town.

He booted up his laptop.

* * *

Three hours and three glasses of wine later, after scouring the archives of the local paper, Kurt was pissed off beyond the telling of it. Animal attacks. Yeah, right. There were certainly a lot of them.

He sighed and glared at the screen. "It _would_ be vampires."

He wondered just how much Jenna knew about him, and if she had shared that information with anyone else.

He stood and crossed the room, opening the trunk that stood before the sofa and acted as a coffee table. Carefully, he withdrew his Book of Shadows. He knew there were no specific entries regarding Mystic Falls, but that didn't mean there wasn't some information to glean.

Forty minutes later, his search had proved fruitless.

He spent the next twenty minutes trying to summon Jenna, and then Miranda. Neither appeared, which didn't bode well. There was no reason to assume they hadn't passed on into one of the heavenly realms, which meant it was likely that someone was blocking his attempts.

He'd tried for months to summon Sam, but to no avail. He knew it was because he hadn't truly accepted Sam's death yet. He didn't know if he'd ever be able to summon Sam, and it was like a knife in his gut.

In a last-ditch effort, he summoned his father.

Burt's shadowy form appeared in the circle, but it was obvious the man was desperately struggling to manifest himself fully.

"You have to help them, Kurt!" Burt yelled. "They need you!"

"Dad, what's going on?" he asked, fear and anxiety lacing his voice.

"Someone's trying to block me. Go, Kurt. Help them before it's too late."

"Dad!"

But Burt Hummel had already disappeared.

Kurt stared sightlessly before him. With a wave of his hand, he extinguished the candles.

Who had _dared_ to interfere with the summoning of his father? Further, who possessed that kind of power? Whoever it was, it was apparent they wanted to keep him away from Elena and Jeremy, which merely cemented his resolve to get to them as quickly as possible.

He could be on the road by nightfall. It would take him two days, and he should arrive just in time for Jenna's funeral.

He was betting Jeremy and Elena had the answers he needed.

"Get ready, Mystic Falls. Your deficiencies are about to be redressed."


	2. Ties that Bind

**Author's Note**: Thank you so much to everyone who favorited, followed, and reviewed! Your support means so very much.

* * *

Elena sat in Lyle Fitzgerald's office, a stunned look on her face.

"Kurt?" she blankly repeated.

It bothered her that she couldn't immediately place the name, that she actually had to stop and think about who the attorney was referencing. Of course she knew her own cousin, but they could be described as acquaintances at best. They had only met once, years ago at a family reunion. She had still been a child then, and Kurt was about to start high school. Her brother and their father had stayed in Mystic Falls, as Jeremy had been recovering from the chicken pox.

She remembered being in slight awe of Kurt, but she didn't necessarily like him, primarily because she didn't even know him. He had been very sweet to her when they met, but, at that time, Kurt had been twice her age. He hadn't had much use for a little girl, but she did remember how he had arranged her hair in a complicated braid that she had adored but was never able to duplicate.

They had kept somewhat in contact, usually through cards for special occasions. Elena remembered feeling a little special that she'd had a teenage relation who deigned to acknowledge her. Most of the kids her age who had elder siblings lamented that their brothers and sisters couldn't be bothered even to talk to them.

Jenna had wanted Kurt to take custody? It just didn't make sense. She didn't think the two of them had been in regular contact. If they had been, she wondered what Jenna had told Kurt.

Jeremy didn't even know Kurt, though she was aware they had exchanged their own cards for a while, until Jeremy had entered his surly period when he turned ten. She hoped he would snap out of it any day now.

Hell, she and Kurt weren't even Facebook friends!

"Jenna didn't tell me you had a cousin," said a confused Alaric.

Elena shook her head to clear it. "He's our third cousin, actually," she said, her tone distracted. "I haven't seen him in years, and Jeremy's never met him." She looked at her brother for confirmation.

He pointedly ignored her.

She knew he blamed her somewhat for Jenna's death, for bringing vampires into their lives. He probably blamed her for their parents' deaths, as well. She couldn't blame him. She battled that guilt every single day.

"What did Kurt say about all this?" Jeremy demanded in a sullen manner.

Fitzgerald cleared his throat. "He was very distressed to hear of your aunt's death, as you can imagine. He had no idea she had named him as your guardian."

Jeremy scoffed. "Maybe we should send him a congratulations card. It's a boy _and_ a girl!"

"Knock it off," Elena snapped, her temper rising to the fore. She turned toward the attorney. "What does he plan to do?"

Fitzgerald nodded. "I spoke with him again, prior to your arrival. He will be in attendance at the service and wishes to speak to both you and your brother. I advised him that Mr. Saltzman has temporary custody and is interested in making it a permanent situation."

Elena shot a grateful smile at Alaric. Jeremy remained still.

"Mr. Hummel insisted that, though he was not averse to that arrangement, he would not relinquish guardianship without meeting Mr. Saltzman."

Alaric sat up straight and nodded, pleased that this mysterious cousin cared enough about Elena and Jeremy not to hand them over to a complete stranger.

"He also desires to ensure that this is what both you and your brother want, Ms. Gilbert. He stated that if you wish for Mr. Saltzman to retain custody, he would not fight it, but only after he had met with all of you."

"So he doesn't want us," Jeremy muttered.

"On the contrary, Mr. Gilbert," Fitzgerald replied, "Mr. Hummel made it clear that he was more than happy to assume guardianship, provided you did not object."

Jeremy raised his head sharply at that.

"Further," the man continued, "he indicated that he would be amenable to sharing guardianship with Mr. Saltzman if an accord could be reached."

"He would do that?" Jeremy asked in a small voice.

Elena looked sadly at him, positive Jeremy was desperate for some familial connection, no matter how remote. She had to admit that she, too, was pleased that Kurt was interested in looking after them, despite the fact that they were virtual strangers. Of course, it could also be problematic for precisely that reason. How could she expect Kurt to understand, let alone approve of, her rather unique life?

"Indeed," Fitzgerald nodded. "He was most adamant that he take a larger role in the lives of you and your sister, as you are his only remaining family, but that he would not pressure you to accept his presence if you did not welcome it."

Jeremy stared. He couldn't remember the last time he had been given a choice about his own life.

Alaric looked at Elena. "What do you know about him?"

She blinked slowly. "Not much," she admitted. "He's seven years older than I am, so he's about twenty-four. His mother died when he was young. I think he was six. His father died during his senior year of high school."

Alaric winced. "He's an orphan?"

"I guess so, yeah," she said quietly. "We have more in common than I realized." She cleared her throat. "The last I heard, he was at college somewhere up north and engaged."

"So he's married now?" Alaric asked. "I wonder what his wife thinks about this?"

"Mr. Hummel is homosexual," Fitzgerald said, sneering slightly, his tone making clear his thoughts on the matter.

The thunderous glares from Alaric, Elena, and Jeremy suggested his opinion was unwelcome. He shuffled some papers on his desk and continued.

"Mr. Hummel graduated from Brown University two years ago. He was a premedical student and received degrees in Physics and Music. He recently completed a graduate program in pathology."

"Whoa," Jeremy said softly.

Alaric was more than impressed, as was Elena. She had always known Kurt was smart, and she remembered that he was in a singing group in high school, but there was a distinct difference between _smart_ and a physics degree from _Brown University_.

"Mr. Hummel's fiancé, Sam Evans, was killed by a drunk driver seven months ago," Fitzgerald continued, softening his tone despite his disgust.

Regardless of what he thought personally, the Gilbert Trust was the primary account of his practice, and though Mystic Falls was a small town, competition was fierce. Legally, Kurt Hummel now had control over the trust and could relocate it to another firm, which would be financially devastating.

Lyle Fitzgerald could not afford to alienate or antagonize the young man.

Further, the loss of stature in the community could see his clients defect in droves. He had found that socially distasteful realities such as alternative sexual orientations mattered little where great sums of money were involved.

He had performed a preliminary background check on Kurt Hummel in order to ascertain whether he would make a fit guardian. Despite his youth, the young man was impressive. His academic credentials were outstanding, a sure indicator of intelligence. His plans to marry his young man indicated a desire for a family. His various trust funds made the Gilbert Trust look like pocket money. On paper, he was the perfect candidate.

Jeremy stood up and stormed from the room, apparently unable or unwilling to posit even more death impacting his life.

Elena looked down at her hands, which were wringing themselves in her lap. She'd had no idea Kurt's boyfriend had died, had been _killed_. She hadn't even known Sam's name until this moment. Kurt's life was apparently as haunted as her own.

She tilted her head. Maybe that's why he was so willing to be their guardian, because he needed a family as much as she and Jeremy did. She nodded to herself, sure she was right. At least she had her brother; Kurt was alone in the world. She vaguely remembered something about a stepbrother, but wasn't sure how close they were, if at all.

It suddenly struck her that Kurt was it. He was the last member of her family.

She felt guilty that she hadn't thought of him after Jenna's death. She hadn't even had the presence of mind to inform him, so consumed by the realization that she and Jeremy were, for all intents and purposes, alone in the world. She had been so grateful to Alaric for stepping up, for going above and beyond any responsibility he felt toward them due to his love for Jenna, she hadn't stopped to remember that there was one person left.

That one person was willing to fight for her, but not fight her. Kurt was willing to put his own pain and grief aside to help her and Jeremy.

She was ashamed by how much she wanted him to do just that. He was coming to Mystic Falls and she wanted to collapse in his arms and beg him to make things better, to take the responsibility from her shoulders. She wanted to scream and rant and cry and whine at someone who would understand and not judge her. She was so careful around Alaric, so conscious of every emotion and facial tic, not wanting to drive him away. He didn't owe her anything.

Of course, neither did Kurt, but, like Alaric, he was willing. He _wanted_ to be there for her and Jeremy. She would be a fool to turn that down.

She startled and tuned back in, having missed the majority of the conversation between Alaric and Fitzgerald. The former was already on his feet and shaking the latter's hand. She supposed that was her cue to get off her ass and pull it together.

She shuffled after Alaric, who was already crossing the threshold in search of Jeremy, who was lingering on the periphery, as he so often did.

* * *

"I don't understand," Finn said flatly, arms crossed over his chest and glaring at nothing in particular.

Kurt sighed and cuddled Cosette more closely to him.

"What part confused you?" Rachel blithely asked her husband. "Kurt has two cousins who have just lost their aunt, after having lost their parents last year. He's been named their guardian. He's going to take care of them."

"But why?" Finn whined. "Why do you have to move there?" he asked, turning toward his brother.

Kurt was now regretting stopping on Long Island to say goodbye. He should have just called once he had gotten to Virginia.

"I mean, the girl is seventeen," Finn argued. "She's almost old enough to take care of herself and her brother."

Kurt rolled his eyes, bouncing his gurgling niece in his lap. "You're being ridiculous, Finn. Take a moment and think about what you just said. Elena is seventeen years old. Every adult in her life has been taken from her, yet you expect me to ask her to give up what precious little remains of her childhood and take on the onus of caring for her brother? What about college? What happens to Jeremy when Elena goes off to school next year?"

Finn huffed mulishly. "But what about that other guy? Aluminum Salt, or whatever? He wants to take care of them, so why not just let him?"

Rachel was appalled. "What in the world are you saying, Finn? What if something happened to us? Wouldn't you want Kurt taking care of our daughter?"

Kurt smiled at the trap she had just laid. Finn, as usual, missed it completely.

"Of course I would!" Finn spluttered. "That's why we made him her guardian in our will! Kurt is her uncle. He's her _family_."

She placed on her hips and glared. "Well, then you just made the point for us, didn't you? Kurt is Elena and Jeremy's _family_. The only family they have, and Jenna wanted him to care for them. Can you think of anyone better?"

Finn finally realized what she was doing and began panicking. He knew there was no graceful way out of this. No matter what he said, he'd look like an ass, so he decided it was best to look like the smallest ass possible.

He sighed in defeat. "No. Except for you, I can't think of a better mother than Kurt."

Kurt squawked in indignation as Rachel giggled.

"Sorry," Finn whispered. "I'm doing the jealous thing again."

"Jealous?" Kurt blankly repeated. "Why would you be jealous?" Realization crashed into him. "Oh, Finn, just because I'll be taking care of Jeremy and Elena doesn't mean you're not my family."

"But they're your _real_ family," Finn said quietly. "We're just related by a technicality."

"That's absurd," Kurt shot back. "Our parents married each other, but us being brothers is a decision the two of us alone made. You'll always be my brother. Cosette will always be my niece. Rachel will always be the albatross around my neck."

"Hey!" Rachel shrieked.

Cosette clapped her tiny hands in delight.

"Traitor," Rachel hissed at her daughter.

Kurt smiled smugly. "Yet another who prefers me over you."

"I won't miss you at all," Rachel complained, though her hard tone was overridden by the tears in her eyes.

"I'm just moving," Kurt said, now serious. "I can't stay in Providence any longer, Rachel. It's killing me."

"I know," she whispered, "and I'm happy for you. I really am. I think that you'll be able to help those kids, because you understand what's happening to them, how confused and scared they must be. It's just so far away."

"We can visit!" Finn exclaimed.

Kurt's eyes widened. "No!" he shouted, startling Cosette, who began wailing. He quickly passed the girl to her father. "I'm sorry, sweetheart," he said to her. "I didn't mean to scare you."

Rachel's eyes narrowed. "Why wouldn't you want us to visit?"

"Your life is here," he argued. "You both have demanding careers, and all of your friends are here. I don't imagine it will be much longer before your dads and Carole relocate."

Rachel and Finn exchanged panicked glances.

"Besides," Kurt continued, "you both are free only during the summers. Elena will be starting her senior year of high school and then preparing for college. Jeremy will have a lot to do during his junior year."

He knew his excuses were sounding more and more pathetic.

"Maybe I could bring them up to the city for Christmas," he finally said.

Rachel began bouncing. "Christmas in New York! We can take them everywhere! Rockefeller Center, Radio City Music Hall, Macy's! I'll get tickets to all the shows!"

And then she was off in a holiday-planning daze, grabbing Cosette from Finn's arms and directing her babble at her.

Finn gave his brother a hard look, knowing he was lying through his teeth. Kurt was a horrible liar, whose preferred method of destruction was the brutality of truth.

He was sure Kurt was hiding something, but could also tell that Kurt was preparing a more convincing yarn to spin in order to placate them. He wouldn't give up answers readily, and trying to force him would only drive him away. As it was, he knew Kurt only talked to him and Rachel because of Cosette. Were it not for her, he probably would've hidden from them as he had from everyone else. He didn't want to part with his brother on bad terms.

"I guess we'll see you then," Finn said carefully.

Kurt nodded, obviously relieved. "I'll call often, I promise, and we can Skype. I want constant updates on my niece."

It always warmed Finn when Kurt became proprietary over Cosette. It reaffirmed to him that Kurt was indeed dedicated to their small family.

Kurt should be a father, he thought. It was wrong that Kurt would never have children with Sam.

"He'd be so proud of you, Kurt."

Kurt inhaled sharply and then his face collapsed in a cascade of emotions.

Finn quickly crossed the room and gently gathered his brother in his arms, kissing the top of Kurt's head.

"I'm proud of you, too."

* * *

"Pennsylvania, I am in you!"

"I've been waiting for you to get in me for _years_, Rainbow," Santana drawled. "What brings you to the mid-Atlantic? Also, where the fuck have you been for the past however many fucking months it's been, you gigantic fuckwit?"

"Congratulations," Kurt said. "That might be the highest number of times you've used that word in any given sentence."

He could actually _feel_ her smile through the phone.

"I've missed you," she said softly.

"I've missed you, too. I also need your help."

She was suddenly all business. "What do you need?"

He quickly filled her in on the pertinent details, as well as his conversation with Finn and Rachel, figuring there was nothing she could say that hadn't already been covered.

"You're a good man," was all she said.

He almost wept at her kindness.

"What do you need me to do?" she repeated.

"I want you to look over the guardian papers," he said.

"I can do that," she said hesitantly, "but I'm only a first-year associate, Kurt. Wouldn't you be more comfortable with someone more experienced?"

"Who's more experienced than you?" he quipped.

She burst out laughing.

"I trust you," he said. "You're one of the few I trust absolutely. I want you to do this for me."

"Then I will."

"Thank you," he said gratefully. "I'm also looking for a new attorney to manage the Delacroix Trust."

The resulting silence was pregnant. "Kurt, I'm flattered you would consider me," she said through gritted teeth, "but I don't think you've paid this due consideration."

"On the contrary," he interrupted, "I've been thinking about this since you started Penn Law."

"It's a multimillion-dollar account!" she barked.

"And I wonder what the partners would say when a first-year associate lands it?"

"I'm not licensed in Virginia," she countered. Inside, she was panicking. This could literally make her career, but if she fucked up, it was over. She couldn't believe the magnitude of that to which Kurt was willing to entrust to her. Holy fuckballs!

"You don't need to be. I just need you to oversee the account. You've been managing your own trusts since you turned eighteen. You know what you're doing. If there are other legal issues, I'm sure you can, er, subcontract them or whatever the appropriate term may be." He paused. "I _trust_ you, Santana Lopez."

She fell silent for a long moment. "What's really going on here, Rainbow?" she finally asked.

"Vampires."

"Goddamn it!" She exhaled harshly through her nose. "You promise me, _right now_, that the moment you need help, you call me, because we both know you eventually will. No questions. No prevarications. You _will_ let me help you."

It was a command, not a question or plea.

"I knew I could count on you."

"Motherfucker," she hissed. "Call me when you get there."

She slammed her phone down.

* * *

"Mercedes Jones, please."

"She's unavailable at the moment. May I take a message?"

"Tell her it's Kurt Hummel."

"And she should know you because..."

"Look, princess, I'm her best friend. You can either tell her I'm on the phone, or I'll bypass you altogether and call her cell. In fact, I'll do just that."

He hung up on the panicked squeak and redialed.

"That bitch is fired," Mercedes greeted him.

"Not on my account, I hope," Kurt said hesitantly.

"You're my best friend. That's always priority." She paused. "Jesus, baby, it about killed me that own damn assistant didn't even know your name."

"I miss you, too," he said softly.

She sniffled. "So, what's going on?" she asked brightly.

And just like that, all of it, on both sides, was forgiven.

"I love you," he whispered.

She started bawling. "Oh, baby, I know I fucked up big time, and I'm just so damned sorry." Her breath hitched. "I lost my best friend and then the best man either of us has ever known because I was a stubborn, blind bitch, and now Sam will never know how sorry I am."

"He knows," Kurt insisted. "He does."

"I hope so," she murmured. "I really, really do. I was such a dumbass."

"And I was a stubborn bastard."

"Bullshit," she said fiercely. "You chose the man you were going to marry, the man you loved and who loved you just as much. That was the right choice, no two ways about it. I was a jealous cow who threw away two of the most important people in my life because I felt abandoned and scared."

"I'm so sorry I made you feel that way."

"You didn't!" she protested. "_I_ made me feel that way, and it's about damn time I owned that." She paused. "Where are you? Are you driving?"

"That's why I called. I'm moving."

"What!" she roared. "You better be bringing that sweet ass out here!"

He laughed, but quickly sobered. "Do you remember me telling you about my cousins?"

She searched her memory. "A boy and a girl, right? They're younger than you."

He quickly filled her in.

"Those poor kids," she whispered. She sighed. "You're a better person than I am, baby. I don't know if I could put my life on hold like that."

"My life has been on hold for a long time now," he said quietly.

She sniffled again. "You'll call?"

"All the time."

"I want to meet them."

"I want that, too. I might have a plan for that, so I'll get back to you soon."

"Where the hell is Mystic Falls, anyway?"

"Virginia," he replied. He hesitated. "There's a very strong possibility I'll require your assistance."

She noted his emphasis on the last word. "With what?" she asked, voice laced with suspicion.

"I assume you've still got your grimoire?"

"Aw, shit."

* * *

Kurt knocked and waited patiently. He heard a whoop and assumed she was looking through the peephole.

The door was thrown open and Quinn Fabray bounced into his arms.

"Is that offer to put me up for a night in your swanky DC apartment still good, or is the fledgling lobbyist too busy?" he asked.

She sobbed once and buried her face in his neck, thumping his chest with her fist, before dragging him inside.


	3. The Freedom of Information

**Author's Note**: Hello to all the new people who have favorited and followed! I appreciate your interest. If you're so inclined, I hope you'll consider penning a review to tell me what you like about the story. Thank you!

* * *

He and Quinn hadn't spent much time talking. Oddly, words weren't necessary.

They both considered why this was, independently reaching the same conclusion: out of the entire glee club, they were the two most similar in terms of personality. Often accused of being cold and aloof, sometimes even unfeeling, they understood each other on a level none of the others could ever possibly hope to understand.

That didn't necessarily mean they were as close to each other as they were to their other friends, only that they were close in a different way. Despite their different upbringings, her faith and his lack thereof, and their life experiences, there existed between them a peaceful grace in which they both found solace.

Kurt had a similar connection to Santana, though it wasn't as pronounced. They could read each other easily and often brought out the best - and worst - qualities in one another. Her fire stoked his passions, while his icy demeanor cooled hers. They were very different in terms of personality, yet complemented each other in matters both sacred and profane.

His relationship with Mercedes was built on vocabulary. As innately suspicious people, plain speech was required in order to facilitate communication. The words weren't important so much as the emotion that laid behind them. Mercedes was a highly-strung person who lived her life with her heart on her sleeve. Kurt, in contrast, was exceedingly controlled and exacting in his standards, both for himself and for others. Thus, their interactions could be limiting and sometimes even dangerous. They fought often and most likely always would, but they loved each other.

Brittany. Were he straight, he would have married Brittany Pierce while they were still in high school. She understood him in a way that no one else ever had or could, including Quinn and even Sam. She often unseated him. She routinely made him uncomfortable. In the months since Sam's death, he had missed that greatly. He had needed that. Perhaps if he hadn't been such an introspective hermit, shutting out his friends in favor of his grief, things would now be very different.

At the end of the day, it was Brittany he would choose to stand at his side above all others, though he often claimed that person to be Santana. Brittany wasn't the smartest or the most powerful, but she was the truest. She was the most brave.

He was scared to call her. He was terrified of how easily she would forgive his hurtful silence. But he would call her, of course, and beg and plead for her to understand, and she would, because she was Brittany. He would tell her everything and she would send him a congratulatory card about being a new father. He would laugh and wish he could be more like her.

Things were simple in Brittany's world. Brittany herself was simple, but in the most complicated ways. She was, quite literally, a genius, with an intelligence quotient which surpassed his own, as well as those of Artie, Santana, and Quinn. She wasn't, however, burdened by the self-imposed demands of a great intellect, nor with the boundaries socially placed between the average and the intelligent.

She bordered on empathic, eerily so, able to discern the moods of everyone around her and adjust her behavior, as well as that of everyone else, to project an aura of lightheartedness and joy, often with a strange quip which made sense only to her. She was perhaps the most sensitive soul he'd ever known, but her backbone was steel, and she had no problem employing it when necessary. Over the years, many people had learned never to underestimate her; others had learned to fear her.

Brittany was like water, able to flow anywhere; constant, but with currents that changed speed and direction, sometimes on nothing more than a whim. She was impossible to hold, but essential to life.

And, finally, there was Quinn.

Kurt loved Finn and they had fought hard for their present relationship, but there had been moments over the years in which Kurt had debated his decision to introduce Carole to his father, wondering whether he would do so again if given the chance.

The truth of the matter was that, most likely, he would not. The idea that he had manipulated two people, two adults, simply for the chance of growing closer to the object of his purely physical affection was repellent to him.

He loved Carole dearly, of course, and she had been an excellent match for his father. They had loved each other deeply, and it had been wonderful to see his father blossom under Carole's strong, but deft, hand. Still, right up until Burt's death, their marriage had been constrained by their love for their children.

He and Finn had been jealous and resentful of each other. They had fought often, sometimes physically, and always with hurtful words rooted deep enough in truth that they left scars. Finn had been relentlessly sycophantic with Burt, in part because he had always desperately wanted a father. Burt had been the epitome of the type of man Finn idealized and wished to emulate. However, there had always been an undercurrent of him wanting to take Burt away from Kurt, if only to make the point that Kurt wasn't as special as everyone believed.

Conversely, Kurt had never attempted such machinations with Carole, and he knew, though she would never admit it, that his blasé approach to their relationship had wounded her. It wasn't that he didn't love her, didn't respect her position as his father's wife, but that he regarded her solely as that: his father's wife. He still addressed her by his first name whereas, before Burt had died, Finn had begun calling him Dad.

Perhaps because Finn had never known his biological father, he had been more willing to accept Burt's authority. Kurt, however, was always conscious of Carole's role in his life as stepmother and nothing more. He would even go so far as to consider her a very close friend, but he did not have a filial love for her. He guarded closely his memories of his mother, what little had been left intact after the passage of time and experience, and was careful never to blur them with Carole's presence in his life.

In the end, he and Finn had been responsible for the few cracks that existed in their parents' marriage. They knew it and were sorrowful for it, but, at the time, they hadn't known how to live together. Their continuous war had hurt the people they loved most.

Now, as he laid in Quinn's arms, their heads buried in each other's necks, Kurt couldn't help but wonder what would have happened had he waited a handful of months and introduced his father to Judy Fabray after she had divorced her husband. He wondered how he and Quinn would have fared as siblings.

The answer, he determined, was that it would have been glorious.

They had always shared a certain respect for one another. Quinn, popular since birth, had never been one of his bullies, despite the fact that she had all but tortured Rachel. Of course, Rachel had always been able to hold her own, and whatever Quinn had done to her had been repaid tenfold when Rachel had stolen Finn and blabbed about Beth.

Despite her protestations, both Rachel and Kurt knew that those had been deliberate acts, far more concerned with hurting Quinn than saving Finn. Neither Finn nor Quinn knew this, and Kurt would never be the one to tell them.

His friendship with Mercedes required words; his friendship with Brittany and Santana did not. However, with Quinn, there was an unspoken understanding on a deeper level. It was almost visceral, and, as such, they had never felt the need to comment on it.

They didn't know why this was. They had always been aware of each other, but hadn't traveled in the same circles, not even when she had joined Glee. It wasn't until she had become pregnant with Beth that they became truly _conscious_ of one another.

Mercedes had literally saved Quinn from homelessness, but there had always been a element of condescension hanging over their relationship. Kurt still remembered the look on Quinn's face when Mercedes had blithely announced that white people couldn't sing the blues. He remembered the tone in Quinn's voice when she had reiterated Mercedes' offer to move in, insisting that Quinn wasn't angry, but only hurt, as though she had known Quinn's mind better than the girl herself.

All of them had been arrogant in those days, but Mercedes had always been, and somewhat remained, presumptuous. She truly believed that she knew what was best for other people and that their life would go much more smoothly if she controlled it for them. The fact that Mercedes often couldn't control herself had escaped her notice.

He wished he had asked Quinn to move in with him and his father. He knew Burt would have welcomed the girl with open arms, because that was simply the type of man he had been.

He wished for so many things, all of the time. For the past seven months, he had been living in a haze, wishing that it had all been a dream, that he was just waiting to hit that high F, and this time he would, as though it would somehow change everything that had come after.

Theirs was a strange little cabal.

Most of them didn't speak with each other. Brittany and Santana had broken up after high school, despite the fact they were still in love with each other. Kurt didn't know what had precipitated it, but if he had, he would have broken his self-imposed vow not to interfere in the relationships of his friends. Truly, if anyone belonged together, it was them. Neither one had moved on or invested themselves in other relationships, so he knew they would eventually reconcile. When they did, he would lord over them the fact that he had always anticipated it.

Santana and Mercedes had sometimes been allies, but never friends. They were too competitive, too similar in certain respects, and their personalities had simply never gelled. Santana had respected his friendship with Mercedes, though Mercedes had not been likeminded, something which had often driven Santana into rages.

Quinn and Mercedes had fallen apart shortly after Beth's birth. The predominant rumor was that Quinn had been more concerned with regaining her popularity than retaining her new friendship, but that was untrue. Quinn had been very appreciative of Mercedes' help, but Mercedes had believed her assistance entitled her to pass judgment on Quinn's life. Quinn had seen, as had Kurt, that a part of Mercedes reveled in Quinn's downfall.

The final splintering among Santana, Quinn, and Mercedes occurred when Mercedes had cheated on Sam during their senior year. Despite the fact that both Quinn and Santana had not treated Sam well during their respective relationships with him, both loved and considered him the only boy who had treated them with respect. Thus, they had been very protective of him. Mercedes' betrayal had infuriated them, far more than it did Sam, and they had never forgiven her.

They had been unified on that front, but Santana and Quinn were not close themselves. They maintained superficial contact and would consult with one another on legal issues and policy, but they weren't best friends. They never had been.

Brittany had removed herself from most of their shenanigans. She had been friendly with Quinn, but her loyalty had always resided with Santana. She had been polite with Mercedes, but only because of her loyalty to Kurt.

After Mercedes had her drunken night with David Warbler, Sam had dumped her. It was several months later when he and Kurt began taking tentative steps toward each other. When they finally announced they were dating, Mercedes had spewed vitriol in the middle of rehearsal, proclaiming that Kurt had always wanted Sam and had been preying upon their relationship, waiting to steal him from her.

The resulting rift defined how all of their relationships would eventually play out.

Finn had been enraged at Mercedes for maligning Kurt. Burt had passed away the month previous, after suffering a second heart attack, and Finn had been closely reexamining his relationship with Kurt, who was all he had left of their father. In that moment of Mercedes' poisonous diatribe, Finn had decided that Kurt, above all others, save his own mother, was the most important person in his life, and had defended his brother like a Fury.

Surprisingly, Rachel had also joined Team Kurt. Their relationship had been awkwardly friendly for almost two years at that point. They weren't truly friends, but neither were they enemies; they were, on occasion, allies. In that moment, however, all of the anger and resentment Rachel had ever felt for Mercedes eclipsed whatever superficial barrier of rationality she had tried to maintain. It had taken Mike, Puck, and Will Schuester to restrain Rachel from indulging in actual physical violence.

It had been Brittany who had reacted with righteous vengeance, striking Mercedes across the face so sharply that the girl fell over.

Everyone had stared at Brittany in shock, but she remained silent, glaring so viciously that Mercedes began crying.

In Brittany's world, there were two people who were off-limits: Santana and Kurt. Many could, and had, argued that as much as Brittany loved Santana, she revered Kurt, who was often the only one to treat her as an adult.

Santana had always been afraid that Brittany's childlike innocence would one day be turned against her; she was therefore always on the prowl to protect and defend Brittany at any cost.

Kurt, on the other hand, defended Brittany simply because he believed her worth defending. He knew she could take care of herself, but was as often underestimated as he himself was.

He sighed, turning on his side and looking into Quinn's eyes. He didn't understand what it was about this woman that had so endeared her to him. In another life, perhaps. Or perhaps it didn't really matter at all.

"I love you," he whispered, twining her fingers with his.

"I love you, too, little brother."

The words, ones he heard so often from Finn, affected him in a wholly different way.

"There's something I never told you."

She blinked. "I always thought there was."

Words so soft she almost missed them passed his lips, and it was in those moments that Quinn truly understood what it was to be human, to be a mother and a sister and a friend. She was so angry, so hurt, so murderous, that it took every ounce of control she possessed not to lash out with her magic.

She knew she was the only person he had told. Had this been common, if secret, knowledge amongst the others, there would have been life sentences and death. That he had told her alone, without prompting, touched her deeply. She would never repeat this information, and realized that he trusted her in a way no one else ever had. She would not betray that trust.

Useless tears streaked down her cheeks and a feeling of inconsolable impotence washed over her. She shunted them aside and drew him flush against her, their chests touching, their heartbeats thumping in synchronicity.

She knew he would be fine, not only with the fallout of this admission, but in his new life in Mystic Falls. He had unquestioning support if he needed it, but he would be fine. He always was.

Kurt Hummel's greatest strength, and greatest curse, was that he survived.

* * *

"But who is he?" Caroline asked. "What's he about?"

Elena gave a diffident shrug. "I'm not really sure. Like I said, I barely know him."

"You don't think it's strange that he just appears out of nowhere to become your guardian?" asked a suspicious Bonnie.

Elena rolled her eyes. "He didn't just _appear_. He was...summoned. Jenna designated him, and he agreed."

"And you're not worried about his reaction to all of this?" Bonnie pressed. "Because there's no way you'll be able to keep it from him. No matter how hard we try, we won't be able to hide it forever. He'll see things, hear things. What then?"

"Then I'll deal with them," Elena said firmly. "I tried to stalk him on Facebook," she hesitantly admitted, "but his account is locked down."

"I think we should Google him!" Caroline exclaimed, opening up her laptop and furiously typing. "What's his full name?"

"Kurt Elijah Hummel," Elena replied, wincing slightly.

"That's not eerie at all," Bonnie murmured.

Caroline triumphantly entered his name in the search engine and boggled at the number of results. "Wow, there's a lot on him."

"Really?" asked an interested Elena, scampering to her friend's side.

"Yeah," Caroline said. "Ooh! He was a cheerleader!"

"What!" Elena and Bonnie shrieked.

Caroline nodded furiously. "Yeah! He was even the captain! His team was called...oh my god."

"What?" Elena and Bonnie gasped.

"He captained the Cheerios!"

Elena stared and Bonnie's mouth fell open.

"_The_ Cheerios?" Elena repeated. "The ones who've won more national titles than any other team in cheerleading history?"

"Whoa," Bonnie whispered.

"And he led them to three of those titles," Caroline said, reverence plain in her voice. As far as she was concerned, Kurt Hummel was the Holy Grail. She quickly opened a tab, directed it to YouTube, and typed in the team's name. "Look! There are videos!"

They spent the next hour gazing at the laptop with stars in their eyes.

"He's so _pretty_," Caroline said in a dreamy sigh.

"His voice," a dazed Bonnie kept repeating. "How can he hit those notes? How can he sing while doing full routines?" she demanded.

"He was in a singing club during high school," Elena said, "and Fitzgerald told us one of Kurt's degrees was in Music."

"One of his degrees?" Bonnie asked.

Elena nodded. "His other is in physics. He was premed."

Bonnie stared.

Caroline switched back to Google and entered _Kurt Hummel, singing club_. "Here it is! His group was called New Directions."

"Nude Erections?" asked a scandalized Elena.

Caroline rolled her eyes and threw a pillow at the girl. "Get it out of the gutter. There's not room enough for both of us."

Bonnie snickered.

"New Directions," Caroline repeated, enunciating the words carefully while clicking on a link. "Oh, hey! They won the national title in his senior year."

"Look for a video," Bonnie commanded.

Caroline complied and quickly pulled one up.

There was a knock on Elena's bedroom door and Alaric stuck in his head. "What's going on?" he asked. "Jeremy and I could hear the music from downstairs."

Elena waved him in, unsurprised when Jeremy quickly followed. "We were looking Kurt up online."

Alaric raised a brow. "Find anything interesting?"

"Did you know he led his cheerleading team to _three _national victories?" Caroline demanded. "He captained the _Cheerios_."

He looked blankly at her.

Her eyes widened. How could he possibly not understand such a phenomenal feat? Was he retarded? There was absolutely no excuse for such willful ignorance! Kurt Hummel, in her estimation, might very well be the most important person walking the planet.

Jeremy and Bonnie sniggered at the looks between the two.

"We're about to watch his performance with his glee club. They won that national title, too," Elena said.

Jeremy was intrigued. He had always loved music, often finding within it a peace denied him in his mundane life. He always felt awkward when asked to express himself, and he resented his inability to give words to his thoughts, as well as those people who assumed they understood him based solely on what they perceived to be his often impossible behavior. Music had been a soothing balm for as long as he could remember.

"Can we watch?" he asked softly.

"Sure," Elena said, a small smile on her face, budging over on the bed and making room for her brother, coincidentally ensuring he was placed up close and personal with Bonnie. She smirked when they exchanged shy glances, both slightly blushing.

Alaric remained standing but looked interested.

Caroline enlarged the video to fullscreen, pressed play, and waited for what she was sure would be magic to erupt from the speakers. She wasn't disappointed.

The girls watched breathlessly - Caroline unnecessarily, of course - and Jeremy studiously as Kurt appeared next to a small girl with long dark hair and an unfortunate case of bangs. While it was apparent it was a duet, there was no doubt Kurt was leading.

Kurt and the girl complemented each other very well, they thought. Each had strong voices, but there was an additional element in Kurt's, something they couldn't readily qualify. There was a smoothness to his timbre, a velvet quality that was soothing and enthralling at the same time.

As they continued to sing, the girl supporting Kurt, both of them reaching effortless notes which made the throats of the others actually ache, though Kurt's were always higher. As the song drew towards its denouement and the intensity of the notes grew exponentially, soaring the scales and being held in full voice that made the current pop divas sound like the amateurs they totally were, it was as though a spell had been cast over the room.

Kurt and the girl were singing about their fathers.

Elena and Caroline were in tears, while Jeremy's eyes were suspiciously red.

Then Kurt hit his final note, awing them by its scope and mastery, and he held it for an astonishing twenty beats, his voice not wavering once. The look on the face of the girl next to him was one of pure pride and total adoration.

Jeremy quickly wiped his eyes as Alaric audibly gasped.

"Damn," Bonnie and Elena said, their voices shaking.

Kurt and the girl acknowledged the thunderous applause and standing ovation, but they didn't bask in it, as they had every right to do. Instead, they hugged each other tightly, whispering words to each other lost to everyone else. They pulled back, turned to their sides, threw out arms to the stage behind them, and smiled.

"Ladies and gentleman: New Directions!" they cheered.

The audience exploded as a dozen teenagers stepped out onto the stage.

"Wow," Caroline said, taking note of the new arrivals, "that has to be the most politically correct group I've ever seen. It's evenly divided between boys and girls. Kurt's gay. There are blonds and brunettes. There's a black girl, a Hispanic girl, two Asians, a kid in a wheelchair, and a kid with a mohawk. That doesn't take into account whatever religions they are."

The others nodded, and then proceeded to watch as New Directions performed two more numbers, one a classic rock song, and the other contemporary pop.

As the group took their final bow to another standing ovation, Elena's eyes zeroed in on Kurt holding the hand of a blond boy.

"Pause it."

Though confused, Caroline obeyed.

"That must be him," Elena whispered.

"Who?" Bonnie and Caroline asked.

"Sam," Jeremy said quietly.

"He's extremely hot," Caroline said, stars in her eyes as she gazed at the two pretty gay boys.

Bonnie nodded. For some reason, Sam reminded her of Matt Donovan. It wasn't that they looked alike, but they were definitely built in a similar manner. The obvious love in Sam's eyes as he stared at Kurt reminded her of the way Matt used to look at Elena.

Elena commandeered the laptop, returned to Google, and plugged in _Kurt Hummel and Sam Evans_. The first result was their engagement announcement. The second was Sam's obituary.

Bonnie and Caroline stared at the screen in horror, the latter now sniffling.

Elena gently closed the laptop and hung her head, feeling like an obscene voyeur and wishing she had never started this.

Jeremy scurried from her room to seclude himself in his, away from the cloud of death which eternally hung over their house, Bonnie quickly chasing after him.

"He's a real person," Alaric said quietly. "He's suffered very real hurts. I understand the impulse, but I suggest you not bombard him with questions when he gets here. I don't think he'd appreciate it."

Elena nodded somberly and rested heavily against Caroline, who had wrapped her arms around the other girl.

Alaric left them all to their thoughts and went downstairs to pour himself a drink.


	4. Lawful Altercations

Quinn, like Kurt, was thankfully a morning person, so his early wake-up call hadn't disturbed her in the slightest. Once he had finished with a quick shower, dressing in casual yet stylish traveling clothes, he wandered into the kitchen, where Quinn wordlessly handed him a cup of coffee prepared to his exacting standard.

He thanked her and took a long pull, humming appreciatively.

"Have you spoken with the others?" she asked, voice the epitome of nonchalance.

He nodded. "Except for Brittany, yes."

She nodded in kind and returned to scanning one of her several newspapers, intermittently checking her phone.

Kurt cut up several pieces of fruit and arranged it artfully on a platter from which they could both nibble.

"What about the other man, Alaric Saltzman?" she asked, spearing a chunk of pineapple with her fork. "Also, that name."

"I'm unsure," he confessed, ignoring her addendum. "I know nothing about him, other than that he had been dating Jenna at the time she died. He obviously must care for Elena and Jeremy, outside of his love for Jenna, or he wouldn't have assumed temporary guardianship. That's a lot to take on if your heart's not in it."

"Maybe he feels responsible," she suggested.

He cocked his head and frowned, sure there was some hidden meaning behind her words. "Explain."

She looked up at stared at him, raising an unimpressed brow. "Are you so far removed from high school politics that you've forgotten the necessity of gathering information before making a strike?" She clucked her tongue and shook her head. "You're assuming this man has good intentions." She shrugged. "Perhaps he does. I truly hope that is the case, but we don't know." She hesitated. "You don't know how Jenna really died, Kurt," she said quietly.

He digested her several valid points and ruminated on them.

She pushed her iPad toward him. "Santana sent this late last night."

He took it hesitantly and began scrolling through the police report, his frown deepening. "What is this?"

Quinn nodded. "There's a lot missing, isn't there? At least as far as I would suspect."

He nodded absently. "Some of this has been redacted." His lips pressed into a thin line. "They're in on it."

"The police force?" she asked, before nodding. "It's not surprising. Given what you told me about what you discovered about Mystic Falls, the local government at least has to be aware, if not in collusion with, the supernatural element." She took a sip of her coffee. "Look at the autopsy report. That's definitely more your area of expertise than mine, but there were several items of information which didn't quite add up."

He blinked slowly and did as she suggested. He studiously read the autopsy results and then read them twice more. That medical examiner was certainly competent, and thoughtful, but Quinn was right in that the report read as a series of medical oddities.

"I was told it was a fire," he murmured in confusion.

Quinn said nothing.

Indeed, Jenna's body did present as having been involved in a fire, but the damage was minimal, and the examination of her lungs suggested she had died prior to inhaling a lethal amount of smoke.

Even more confusing was the examination of her neck, which clearly showed recent trauma, despite the fact that, somehow, it had healed. Miracles aside, bones do not lie, and the evidence of severe cervical injury remained.

"She had a broken neck."

Quinn stared at him.

It was then he read about the gaping wound to her chest, suggesting an implement had been thrust directly into her heart. Said implement had left splinters of wood in the surrounding tissue.

"Oh, god," he whispered, face paling. "She was a vampire, Quinn. Someone had turned Jenna into a vampire and she was then staked."

Her eyes darkened with rage. "Well, I would take that to mean that the Gilbert/Sommers family is somewhat aware of what goes on in that town. At the very least, they're being targeted."

He nodded, staring off. "I wonder what I would find should I ask for the autopsies of Miranda, Grayson, and John."

Her brows gathered. "You think the family is being stalked? Picked off one by one?"

He winced, but nodded. "There's a very good possibility, but this has been going on for over a year. As you said, Elena and Jeremy, and most likely Alaric, know what's occurring." He paused. "That said, they're still alive, so either someone or something is protecting them."

She nodded in kind. "Santana is conducting a deep background check on Saltzman. She should have it before you arrive in Mystic Falls and will email it to your phone."

He closed his eyes and released a slow breath.

"I have to get going soon," she said sadly.

He nodded and stood. "As do I. I can't thank you enough, Quinn. Not only for your hospitality, but for being my family."

She held him tightly and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. "That's always been my privilege." She stroked his forehead, smiling when he closed his eyes and hummed. "Will you be calling Brittany soon?"

He hung his head, flushing slightly. "Yes, but I'm nervous."

Quinn shrugged, not interested in coddling him. "She's Brittany, and you're her Dolphin. In the end, that's all that matters to her."

He smiled, almost against his will, and nodded. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

* * *

Forty minutes of unsavory Beltway rush-hour traffic later, Kurt crossed into Virginia. By his estimation, he would arrive in Mystic Falls in just over two hours, giving him another two to find a motel and dress for the funeral.

He had just driven past Quantico when his phone beeped. Glancing at the screen and seeing a text with an attachment from Santana, he quickly made his way over to the far right lane and then pulled off at the nearest rest stop. After using the facilities and grabbing a Diet Coke, he locked himself inside the car and began reading the file.

It was certainly illuminating.

He'd never precisely understood just how Santana was so easily able to unearth information which had been buried deeper than Middle Earth, but she somehow always managed.

So, Alaric Saltzman had once been married to Isobel Flemming, a resident of Mystic Falls, whom he'd met while both were studying at Duke University. Alaric had majored and graduated with a degree in History. He had become certified as a high school teacher and was presently employed at Mystic Falls High School, where Jeremy and Elena were students.

Well, that was certainly convenient. Especially in light of the fact that Isobel had disappeared several years previous and been legally declared dead. It was certainly curious that the man had moved to the hometown of his dead wife to teach high school.

His record showed a few meaningless arrests which had ultimately amounted to nothing, while his name was listed as a potential witness in several unsolved cases, most of which had been declared cold due to lack of evidence. He wasn't a person of interest and never considered a suspect, but it suggested a pattern of, if not behavior, knowledge.

He shook his head and sighed before moving on to the other documents, the heading of which was circled in red and screamed READ ME! in Santana's handwriting. So he did.

As his eyes scanned the pages, they widened to the point where they began to well in response to the additional air flowing across them.

Isobel Flemming and John Gilbert had an affair while in high school, the result being Elena, who was adopted into her own family, courtesy of Grayson and Miranda.

As Kurt's only biological ties were to Miranda, that meant Elena was not technically related to him. It didn't bother him; in fact, it meant nothing. He still considered her family, as he did Finn and Cosette. He did, however, wonder if Elena was aware of these facts. If she wasn't, he debated whether he should tell her, coming to no firm conclusion. He supposed he would cross that bridge when he came to it.

Thus, Alaric Saltzman had not only dated Jenna, the aunt and guardian of Elena and Jeremy, but was also - legally, at least - Elena's stepfather.

Interesting.

He put on his seat belt, cracked open the can of Diet Coke, and slowly pulled back onto I-95.

* * *

He hit the city limits even sooner than he had anticipated and checked into a quaint motel located about seven miles from the Gilbert home. He ignored the colorful chatter of the smitten hotel clerk whose gaydar must have been in the repair shop.

Stepping into his room, which he had tentatively reserved for the week in case things with Jeremy and Elena did not go well, he almost passed out. The room appeared as though Laura Ashley had literally exploded over every available surface. The portraits of adorable cats frolicking made him ill. He sincerely hoped he wouldn't have to stay here any longer than necessary.

He had taken a shower at Quinn's apartment that morning and determined he didn't need another, yet he did unpack his toiletries case and thoroughly cleansed his face, taking the time to reapply a touch of product in his hair. He brushed his teeth for good measure.

He turned on the hot water spigot to the shower and reentered the room proper, closing the door behind him. Unzipping his garment bag, he removed his black Prada suit, last worn at Sam's funeral and would probably be burned later that day, and hung it from the shower rod to steam out the few wrinkles.

He collapsed in upon the chaise longue by the fireplace and texted Quinn and Mercedes to let them know he arrived, explaining he would be out of contact for a while, due to the funeral and reception. He then texted Santana, telling her he had read the file and thanking her for digging deeper into the history of the town itself. He also asked if, when she had the chance, if she could focus particularly on the older families that still maintained a presence. He figured it was a good idea to find out as much as possible. He knew how small towns operated.

That done, he sighed, reached down, and withdrew his laptop from his carrying case. He booted it up, searched for a wifi signal, which was present but weak. He navigated toward the website of the local police station, read the crime sheet, which was almost nil, and then studied the page dedicated to Sherriff Elizabeth Forbes, including her résumé.

He found himself having a good opinion of the woman and decided to pay her a visit. As a stranger, he would do well to introduce himself to the head of law enforcement.

Nodding, he quickly crossed the room, opened the bathroom door, inspected his suit, which met his satisfaction, and divested himself of his travel ensemble.

He buttoned the fitted ivory Oxford shirt, stepped gingerly into the suit, as though it might attack him, and began knotting his charcoal tie in a perfect Windsor. He blinked back tears, missing Sam more than ever. Against his better judgment, he spritzed his wrists with Sam's cologne, his nose filling with the scent of grapefruit and rain.

He exhaled slowly, double-checked his reflection, deeming himself suitable, and then left the room, locking the door behind him and setting a ward which would alert him if anyone crossed the threshold.

He was betting someone would.

* * *

Parking in the town square was more than slightly ridiculous, but after circling twice, he found a space directly in front of the police station.

He exited the car, shut the door, and took a moment to revel in the soft spring breeze wafting over him. The air was different here, heavier and without bite; soft. He was betting the humidity of the summers, however, would wreck havoc with his hair. He frowned.

He adjusted his tie and quickly ascended the steps of the police station, marveling at the Thomas Kincaid layout of the town. It looked like a postcard. He supposed he wouldn't be averse to living the next few years of his life in Mystic Falls, despite the preponderance of vampires. Besides, it wasn't as though he had anything else to do.

He stormed into the building and instantly noticed that his walk had attracted attention. He no longer strutted about as he had in high school, but instead had accustomed his stride to better match the large city in which he had lived the past six years. He quickly reminded himself that he was now in the South, where people moved more slowly, almost a meandering trot, and where good manners were paramount.

He slowed his roll, approached the main desk, removed his sunglasses, and smiled politely at the secretary, who was hungrily eyeing his suit and had dollar signs flashing in her eyes. Good lord, weren't there any gay people in this town? Was it Lima all over again?

Or perhaps it was just a lack of available men in his age group. Either way, gross.

"Good morning," he said, injecting a musical lilt in his voice. "My name is Kurt Hummel. Would it be possible to speak with Sheriff Forbes for a few moments? If not, I would be glad to make an appointment."

The girl, who he estimated to be about his age, flushed slightly, and proceeded to attempt to interrogate him about his business. He raised an eyebrow, making it clear that he was aware she was well outside of the remit of her job but was willing to placate her for the sake of appearances. She flushed more darkly.

"Abby, get it together," sighed a voice behind and to the left of her.

Kurt adjusted his line of sight and nodded at the woman he recognized to be Elizabeth Forbes. "Good morning, Sheriff Forbes."

She smiled slightly and nodded in return. "Good morning, Mr. Hummel. How may I help you today?"

His eyes drifted back to the nosy assistant, who was nonchalantly shuffling papers and looked primed for gossip.

"Please come into my office, Mr. Hummel," Liz said politely, glaring at Abby.

Kurt nodded his thanks and followed the elder woman into her inner sanctum.

"Please have a seat," she directed, taking her own. "May I offer you coffee or another beverage?"

Kurt's gratitude was plain on his face. "I would welcome some water if it would be no trouble."

"Not at all," she said, waving him away. She pressed the intercom and relayed the order of two bottle waters to Abby, who quickly delivered them, leaving the door open after her exit.

Liz curled a lip, eyes alight with annoyance, and moved to stand.

"Please allow me," Kurt said, smoothly rising to his feet and shutting the door.

She offered a more genuine smile and thanked him upon his return. "How may I help you today?"

"Thank you, Sheriff. It's a pleasure to meet you. As you know, my name is Kurt Hummel. I am the cousin of Jenna Sommers and Miranda Gilbert."

Her eyes widened in shock and her mouth fell open slightly. She blinked heavily and shook her head. "Forgive my surprise," she said. "I was unaware Jenna had other family."

Kurt smiled thinly. "Most people are." He swallowed. "Now that Jenna is gone, except for Elena and Jeremy, there is only me."

Some emotion presented itself in her eyes. He wasn't sure what it was. He detected sympathy, but also some wariness. "Please accept my condolences on the loss of your cousin, Mr. Hummel..."

"Kurt, please."

She smiled. "Kurt, then," she said, nodding. "Jenna was a lovely woman and a valued member of this community." She cleared her throat. "I presume you're here for the service?"

Kurt nodded. "Yes, as well as to accept guardianship over Elena and Jeremy."

Her stare was blatant and she appeared at a loss for words.

"Please, Sheriff," he said, "don't censor your thoughts on my account."

"I'm sorry," she said, biting her lip, "but are you serious? You can't be much older than Elena!"

He raised a brow. "Then I've held up even better than I realized," he drawled.

She giggled and looked surprised she had.

"I'm twenty-four," he said, smiling. "Jenna designated me as guardian, and I intend to fulfill that role, pending the approval of my cousins." He then drained half the water bottle, suspecting it had been infused with vervain, which it was. Telling. Still, he figured he might as well set her mind somewhat at ease.

Indeed, she appeared relieved.

"I find that an incredibly kind and decent act for one so young," she said quietly but with respect, "but don't you think it will be an unfair burden set upon you?"

"Of course not," he said staunchly, with just enough fire to ensure his seriousness. "They are my family, the only family I have left." He paused. "My mother died when I was a child; my father during my senior year of high school." He blinked several times. "I have a stepbrother who is married with a child and living on Long Island." He shrugged helplessly. "I'm alone. I'm determined that Elena and Jeremy won't be made to feel the same."

Approval brimmed in her eyes and she nodded. "Would you mind if I asked a little about your background?"

He raised an amused brow. "Am I to assume you're really asking about whether or not I'm able to support Jeremy and Elena financially without raiding their trust fund?"

She flushed.

"Please don't feel embarrassed," he said. "I appreciate that you're looking out for them. To answer your question, I have my own trust funds, which far outweigh the Gilbert Trust."

Her eyes lighted with the curiosity of a question she would never dare ask.

"I'm worth well over thirty million dollars," Kurt said.

There was no need for discretion in this matter. Money bought power, which he would need in this town. Besides, that number was so conservative as to be ridiculous; he easily had twice that amount, thanks to the shrewd investments of his grandmother, mother, and father. As an only child of only children, one who had maintained an extremely lucrative business and the other who had come from money and a family far older than any in the United States, he was well aware of his privilege.

Liz's slight sigh of relief was louder than she had intended, but she didn't care. The last thing she needed to deal with was a gold-digger out to rob two teenagers blind.

"I have degrees in Music and Physics from Brown University, where I was a premedical student," he continued, ignoring her impressed look, "and recently graduated from a Masters program in Pathology, also at Brown. Though unnecessary, I do intend to obtain gainful employment, but only after the legal issues are settled with Elena and Jeremy."

She nodded. "Please forgive me for being blunt, but what if they're unwilling to accept you as their guardian?"

He nodded at the expected question. "Then I won't force them. I understand that Jenna's boyfriend has temporary custody, and if Elena and Jeremy are content with that arrangement, I will relinquish my claim so that it can be made permanent. The Gilbert Trust is set up so that only family can administer it, and I barely qualify, but I will do so until Elena reaches her majority and can manage it herself.

"If they wish to remain with Mr. Saltzman, I'll sign the house over to him for as long as he's their guardian, with the provision that the deed reverts to Elena upon her eighteenth birthday. I'll purchase a home of my own in Mystic Falls so that I will be close by, should they need me."

"You've thought this through," she said in admiration.

Kurt ducked his head. "I've been in their position. I don't envy them. I had no one to help me, so I will help them in whatever way I can, even if they don't welcome or appreciate it."

This was a good man, Liz silently thought. "What can I do for you?"

"Mostly, I just wanted to introduce myself to you. I come from a small town, as well, and am well aware of the politics involved," he said. "I didn't want you to come across reports of a stranger in town and have you think I'm up to nefarious deeds," he finished, smirking.

She burst out laughing.

"Also, I am in a possession of a number of firearms, mostly inherited from my father, but a few of which I have added to the collection. I want to register them properly so that there are no legal issues later on down the road, though I hardly anticipate any. I have my original permits from Rhode Island."

She nodded briskly, all business. "I wish more people had that foresight. It's a simple matter of paperwork and can easily be dealt with in a matter of hours. Basically, I just need you to sign a few forms after I run the requisite background checks."

He nodded.

"May I ask where you're staying?"

"At the moment, I'm registered at the Mystic Falls Inn," he replied.

She winced. "Cat pictures," she hissed.

He laughed. "The décor is...unique."

She snorted and shook her head. "Was there anything else, Kurt?" she asked warmly.

He hesitated, looking over his shoulder to ensure the door was indeed shut and the ever helpful Abby was otherwise occupied. He ascertained that she was and turned back to regard Liz.

"As I'm sure you've guessed," he began, "I'm gay. I don't bother to hide it. Is that going to be a problem for me here?"

She stared into his eyes. "I don't know," she said honestly, thinking of her ex-husband, who had quickly moved out of town after coming out to her and Caroline. "Your situation is unique, and I can only offer guesses. As you stated, this is a small town, with both the benefits and detriments inherent in that. In general, the youth population of Mystic Falls is very open-minded. They don't brook with homophobia or other prejudices.

"Not that there aren't undercurrents, of course, but they're not addressed. I know from daughter that there are a handful of openly gay students at the high school, and they've never been targeted or harassed. If they had been, believe me, Caroline would have told me. She doesn't put up with that type of nonsense."

Kurt smiled widely. "A testament to her mother, I suspect."

She blushed.

"I look forward to meeting her," he said, the end of the situation a questioning lilt, offering her a discrete out if she desired one.

"Oh, you will," she laughed. "Caroline is one of Elena's best friends, and has been since they were very young children."

He paused. "Then you knew Miranda."

Liz nodded, eyes bright and throat full. "Very well," she said, "both her and Grayson. They were wonderful people."

He nodded demurely.

She cleared her throat. "As for the Old Guard, you have money - a lot of it - and that's all that matters to them." Her eyes narrowed and hardened. "If anyone, and I mean _anyone_, causes you any grief, harasses you in any way, I want you to come to me immediately. Either we can file charges or, if you're not comfortable with that, I can handle things...off the clock."

"Thank you," he whispered. "High school was a very...difficult experience." He briefly launched into his history, not above deliberately manipulating her to further endear himself.

"And nothing was done?" she furiously demanded.

He shrugged. "The administration and school board were uninterested in taking action. Their official stance was that, as sexual orientation was not a protected class in Ohio, the problems I had were of my own making and, therefore, my responsibility." He sneered. "After all, I chose to be gay."

Liz was appalled and muttered a few creative curse words under her breath.

"In the interest of full disclosure," Kurt said, "I should tell you that, at my partner's insistence, I'm trained in Krav Maga. I'm at least competent enough to defend myself, but I assure you that I would be very careful not into inflict serious harm upon anyone who attacked me."

She nodded, though she was suspicious at how open this young man was with her. Had he no guile, or was he simply trying to make a good impression? Or was it something more?

"I assume your partner will be moving here, as well?" she asked pleasantly.

At his harsh flinch, she instantly regretted her words.

"No," Kurt said softly, hanging his head. "Sam was killed by a drunk driver almost eight months ago." He looked up and attempted a smile, but it looked painful. "We were due to be married last month, after my graduation." He shook his head. "I'm sorry, I'm still not used to employing the past tense where he's concerned."

Liz felt like a ghoul, and though she could tell he wasn't angry with her, she still felt guilty.

Kurt forced his face to clear, a slight smile appearing. "If I'm being honest, Sheriff Forbes, I need Jeremy and Elena as much as I hope they'll need me."

In all of her years in law enforcement, it was the most honest thing anyone had ever told her.

She liked this man. Elena and Jeremy would, as well, she was sure. If they hurt his feelings, she wasn't beneath arresting them. She smiled.

He returned it. He had been more open than intended, but it had served its purpose. He now had an ally, a powerful one. She was intelligent, confident, and observant. She obviously cared about the community and its members. He had the full measure of this woman and, judging from the vervain in the water, she had the measure of this town.

An excellent start.


	5. A Tabled Discussion, Part One

Kurt was nervous.

Churches made him uncomfortable, and he had dithered for almost fifteen minutes before finally deciding not to skip the service altogether. Despite his magic, despite his ability to summon the departed, despite his absolute knowledge that there was existence after death, he still considered himself an atheist. He had seen as many wonders in the world as he had horrors, but he did not believe that there was a supreme deity orchestrating humanity toward some nebulous final act.

He looked up at the rather plain edifice of the Methodist building and imagined, for just a moment, how it might have felt if he had believed, if he had ever managed to find the comfort and solace that Mercedes and Quinn found, or that Sam had enjoyed. He could not even posit it, and was frustrated with himself for it.

Most of the time, the fact that he did not believe was not troubling. He didn't begrudge the faith of others; in fact, there were rare instances in which he was jealous that he couldn't share it.

He had never made the conscious choice to be an atheist; he had simply never believed.

Over the years, he had met other atheists, but had never really connected with them. Perhaps it was true only for those whom he had encountered, but they had a zealous militarism about them which he did not possess. He wasn't interested in proving that there was no God or gods. He had never felt the need to pick apart sacred texts and shine a light on their inherent hypocrisies. He didn't care to convert people away from religion.

The fact of the matter was that his atheism had almost no impact on his daily life, except when it came to moments like this.

Churches reminded him of his junior year, when Mercedes had dragged him to hers and insisted he have some religious _experience_, as though it would have somehow altered the fact that his father had suffered a heart attack, or that Burt's return to consciousness was contingent on how hard Kurt mumbled words which he did not believe.

Churches reminded him of his senior year, when he had shuffled behind Carole and Finn at his father's funeral, not understanding why he was there and not at home, surrounded by his father's scent and the memories they had shared.

Churches reminded him of Finn and Rachel's wedding. They had been married in an interfaith ceremony, surrounded by their loved ones. Outside of Carole and Sam, Kurt hadn't known any of the other guests, save Rachel's fathers, who he recognized, but had never met. It had made him feel isolated.

Churches reminded him of Sam's death. Sam had been Christian, and while not terribly devout, he had tried to live his life according to that ideal, save refraining from loving other men. Kurt hadn't objected when Scott and Savannah had wanted to have a service. He had even helped plan it, knowing it was both what Sam would have wanted and had deserved. Sam had been the essence of a good Christian, following the Golden Rule and loving his neighbor, even when they spat on him.

Churches _hurt_.

And now, here he was, once again at a church, once again to say goodbye to a member of his family.

Sighing and shaking his head slightly, he ascended the stairs and quietly entered.

* * *

Liz Forbes apparently had been correct and Jenna was a loved member of the Mystic Falls community, judging from the packed pews. Either that, or people had simply shown up for the sake of appearances. He supposed he didn't care.

He looked toward the front and saw two dark heads, one male and the other female, knowing they were Elena and Jeremy, the last of his family. He felt a surprising swell of possession, of wanting to rush up there, take them in his arms, and swear he would make everything better.

He didn't, of course; it wasn't his place. The ferocity of his emotions, however, had shocked him to stillness, and he stood at the foot of the room and stared blankly at Jenna's casket.

He truly had not expected to feel the magnitude of grief he was now experiencing.

Jenna had been his cousin, yes, but he hadn't truly _known_ her. The impressions he had from their few meetings were fuzzy. He didn't know what her favorite color had been, or if she had dreamed of marrying Alaric Saltzman, or if she had wanted children of her own. He knew little of substance about her, yet the pain he felt at seeing that glorified wooden box, knowing she was inside of it and lost to him forever, that he would never _have_ the chance to know her properly, filled him with pain.

He felt someone move behind him, and suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder. He turned and found that it belonged to Liz Forbes, who smiled sadly at him and gently guided him to one of the empty spaces in the back, sitting down beside him.

He stared ahead, unblinking, and and disconnected himself from any sense of time.

Suddenly Liz's hand was on his arm and she was encouraging him to stand. It was over. He had no idea how long he had sat there, lost to thoughts he couldn't even remember.

He looked at her and was surprised by the sympathy in her eyes. Not that it was there, of course, but by its depth. The look in her eyes reminded him of when Carole stared at him, or when Quinn would watch him, believing he didn't know she was looking. It was motherly. It was warm and safe, and Kurt had to fight not to take comfort in it.

Liz liked him, he knew, and he liked her. It would have been so very easy to lean on her, but he couldn't afford it. He couldn't set that tone so early in this endeavor. He would not allow himself to be seen as weak, no matter how justified it might have been.

He smiled thinly at her, nodding his head in thanks, and gracefully entered the receiving line.

As he slowly eased his way forward, he took note of the faces present, committing them to memory as he wondered as to their identities. He had the sense that many were present not because of Jeremy and Elena, or even Jenna, but because it was appropriate. He also paid careful attention to how Elena and Jeremy reacted to their presence, how much time they spent with the mourners and to whom they paid special attention.

Two girls hovered behind Elena. He suspected the blond was Caroline Forbes. He wondered how many people knew she was a vampire. The other girl, dark-skinned and stunningly beautiful, was a witch. She held immense power but did not appear at ease with it. He was able to glean that her magic was markedly different from his, more along the lines of Mercedes' tradition as a servant of Nature.

The girl possessed magic, but wasn't magic herself. She could wield it, but would never truly know it. He hoped they could coexist peacefully.

He noticed no one stood with Jeremy, save an older man, who he assumed was Alaric Saltzman.

At last, it was his turn. He stepped forward and turned to face his cousin.

"Hello, Elena," he said softly.

* * *

She couldn't help but stare at the impossibly gorgeous creature before her.

It wasn't that she recognized his face, but the tone of his voice. That careful, measured cadence. That intangible musical quality which infused it.

Ever since she had been told Kurt was coming, she had thought about their first and only meeting seven years ago, straining her memory to recall every detail. Kurt had been pretty, as Caroline had observed while watching the videos, but _pretty _had somehow been transformed into _beautiful_.

Kurt Hummel was beautiful.

His hair was a shade lighter than hers, but so glossy it shined like beaver pelt in the soft lighting of the church. It was set perfectly in place, which, for some reason, made her irrationally angry, as her own, when left untreated, was wild.

The baby fat had melted from his face and left behind a prominent chin, a strong jaw, and cheekbones of which most girls would have been jealous. She would have, too, had they not been her own. It was the cheekbones that screamed to the primitive portion of her mind that this man was _family_. Then she remembered Isobel was her birth mother, not Miranda, and an entirely different sense of loss washed over her. Kurt was not actually related to her.

He had grown almost a foot since she had seen him last. At fourteen, Kurt had been positively _tiny_, almost delicate. Now, only a scant half-inch in Jeremy's favor separated them. His limbs were long and graceful, and he moved with an almost feline liquidity, as though he was completely comfortable in his own skin, a fact which she envied.

The fitted suit left no doubt that he had musculature, and while it was solid, it wasn't hulking. She doubted if he spent hours in the gym working out, but he obviously had some regime which suited him well. His waist was obscene, and even though hers was probably smaller, he made her feel fat.

His eyes were arresting, wide and of a color for which she had no name. She looked into them and felt she could have stayed lost there forever. They radiated pain and loss and suffering, but also hope and acceptance and _love_. Love for _her._

He _wanted_ to be there. He wanted _her_.

"Kurt," she warbled, eyes welling, as she grabbed his hand.

And then she was in his arms, her face buried in his neck, and sobbing. Not because he was there, not because he was to be her guardian, not even because he was family, but because he _understood_.

"I'm an orphan," she mumbled, over and over again, because the reality had finally struck her. Jenna's presence, the fact that Jenna had been the sister of her mother, had allowed Elena to deny that her parents were truly gone and, instead, simply off on an extended vacation. She had clung so tightly to the belief that, as long as Jenna was with them, their family was somehow intact, that it hadn't been decimated. Now she knew that was a fallacy.

"But you're not alone," Kurt whispered. "I'm here, Elena, and I'm not going anywhere. Jeremy is here. You have family. I know it can be so easy to forget that in moments like these, but you must cling to it, to us. You are not alone."

She pulled back and stared into those eyes once more, a feeling of calmness washing over her. The eyes didn't lie. He meant his words.

Kurt gave her a gentle smile and kissed her forehead before moving toward Jeremy.

They stared at each other for a long time, the cousins who had never met.

Kurt cocked his head, studied Jeremy's face, and nodded. "I see both of them in you, your mother and father." He paused as something flashed in his eyes. "None of this is your fault, Jeremy. Nothing you did caused the people you loved to be taken from you. Nothing you've done since has disappointed them or caused them to love you less."

Jeremy ducked his head, furious at the tears springing to his eyes. How did this man know these things? How did Kurt know what he had been thinking, how he had blamed himself? Who was Kurt Hummel to offer this absolution?

"I know it hurts," Kurt softly continued. "I won't lie to you, Jeremy. It will _always_ hurt. You will always miss them. You will always want them with you. That never goes away. Despite what people may tell you, you're going to mourn Jenna and your parents for the rest of your life."

Jeremy sharply raised his head and stared at Kurt, much as his sister had. Unlike Elena, he hadn't required understanding; he needed _honesty_, and that was what Kurt had given him.

"But you can't allow their deaths to stop you from living," Kurt said. "I did. In some ways, I still do." His voice became shaky. "I don't want that for you, Jeremy. Surviving isn't living."

Jeremy said nothing, his mouth working though not opening, as he took a step forward.

Kurt didn't hug him, even though he knew that was what Jeremy needed. Still, that wasn't their relationship, if they even had one, not yet. Instead he placed a strong hand on Jeremy's shoulder.

The touch steadied Jeremy, grounding him. He managed a small, sickly smile and nodded. Kurt returned the nod, patted his shoulder, and then turned to face the intriguing Alaric Saltzman.

Alaric Saltzman was, in his estimation, a prime example of the male specimen. Tall and physically strong, he wasn't a brute, as Finn often unintentionally came across. He had a quiet confidence and there was a sharp intelligence in his blue-gray eyes. There was also cunning and mystery. His face was exquisite. He was like a leading man out of an old Hollywood movie.

"Mr. Saltzman," he said, extending a hand.

Alaric took it in his own, his face betraying nothing. Kurt's grip was soft, but very strong, and he could sense that the young man before him was far more than he appeared. "Alaric, please."

Kurt nodded. "Please call me Kurt," he said kindly, before dropping the hand, uncomfortable for reasons he couldn't fathom. He turned and offered a brief smile at Liz, who was now standing with her daughter.

"You must be Caroline," he said to the girl.

She tilted her head. "How did you know?" she asked bluntly.

Kurt was charmed. Her hair, her bone structure, her voice - all of it reminded him of Brittany. "I've had the good fortune to meet your mother, who told me how lovely you are. No offense to Elizabeth, but I think she understated it."

To everyone's surprise, Caroline ducked her head, blushing.

Elena and Bonnie stared. Caroline was a breathtaking girl who understood the power of her beauty. To see her so unseated by such a pleasant, if banal, compliment was bewildering.

Kurt turned to Bonnie. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure."

Bonnie smiled. As strange as this all was, she couldn't fault his manners. "I'm Bonnie Bennett, a friend of Elena's."

"It's nice to meet you, Bonnie," he said.

She was struck by his earnestness, that he meant his words. He carried himself as though he were much older than his true age, but he didn't talk down to anyone, nor did he regard her or the others as mere children. He was polite, but also respectful.

Alaric couldn't help but wonder how much of Kurt's presentation of himself was calculated. He turned to his side and glanced at Damon, who was lingering near the front doors, staring at Kurt with a similar look of contemplation.

Kurt saw the exchange from the corner of his eye, but didn't comment.

* * *

Elena spent the next hour in a daze.

Only family and friends - that is, herself, her brother and cousin, Alaric, Bonnie and Caroline, and whatever the hell Damon was - were present at the interment. Matt and Tyler had been invited, but had demurred, sensing the overture had been mere courtesy, though Elena would have welcomed them. Jeremy would have only welcomed Matt.

Damon had been introduced to Kurt as the brother of Elena's boyfriend, Stefan, who was currently out of town. Kurt had been truly uncaring. This had bothered Damon.

They had taken separate cars. Jeremy, though not with words, had insisted on going with Kurt. Oddly, so had Caroline. Jeremy's action had not surprised her, but she felt somewhat abandoned. She had the sense that Jeremy had made some unspoken declaration and couldn't help but worry as to what it meant. Caroline had followed simply because Kurt flattered and intrigued her. As much as she loved her friends, she was very mercurial and self-absorbed.

The rest had piled into Alaric's car, Damon riding shotgun. Not for the first time, she was perplexed by their relationship. Damon had killed Alaric once, and had turned the man's wife. Yet, for some unfathomable reason, there existed between them some connection.

Bonnie sat next to her, glaring daggers at Damon throughout the entire ride.

"So, that was the mysterious cousin," Damon drawled.

Elena frowned. "I didn't find him mysterious. I think he's shy and felt awkward."

Bonnie nodded.

Damon snorted. "Wasn't all that awkward when he was fawning over Blondie or trying to get in good with Little Brother."

Elena's frown segued into a scowl. "Leave Jeremy alone," she snarled.

Damon realized Elena's feelings of protection for her brother were at an all-time high. He understood and wisely backed off. The truth of the matter was that, in spite of how annoying the boy could be, he liked Jeremy, though he would never admit it.

"I didn't think he was fawning over Caroline," Bonnie said slowly. "When he looked at her, there was something in his eyes, as though he were seeing someone else."

"Really?" Elena asked.

Bonnie nodded. "Probably one of those blond girls we saw in the videos. Two of them were in both the cheerleading videos and the ones of the singing club."

Damon scoffed, still appalled by the notion of a _male _cheerleader. He'd learned to keep his silence, though, after a furious Caroline had batted him around like a cat toy when she had heard him ridiculing the alleged sport. He absently rubbed his jaw. It wasn't _right_ that a vampire he had turned could hit him that hard.

Against his better judgment, Alaric couldn't help but add his two cents. "I liked him," he said quietly.

Only Elena noticed how badly that statement perturbed Damon.

* * *

The burial proceeded as planned, and everyone present offered some comment on Jenna's character. Alaric spoke of her beauty, Elena spoke of her strength, and Jeremy spoke of her kindness. Caroline mentioned Jenna's bawdy sense of humor and Bonnie talked about Jenna's secret love of romance novels, an interest she shared.

Damon offered quiet but heartfelt words about Jenna's love of family, of how she put it before everything else. It was apparent he had had respected that aspect of her.

When Kurt's turn had arrived, he frowned and appeared to think heavily on his words. "What I remember most about Jenna was her total inability to censor herself. She was honest, often to what others would deem a fault. You always knew where you stood with her. She was kind, but bored by pretense. She was unflinching in the truths she delivered and didn't care what you thought of them, or of her. She was real."

For the first time since his aunt's death, Jeremy cried.

* * *

They gathered back at the Gilbert house for the unacknowledged necessary conversation.

Damon had tried to include himself, but had been denied by both Elena and Alaric. He had sullenly agreed to take Bonnie and Caroline home, but neither had been interested, kissing the cheeks of Elena and Jeremy, before walking off together, arms linked. Damon had slunk back to his empty house, presumably to sulk.

Elena put on a pot of coffee and prepared a sandwich for Jeremy, which he couldn't be bothered to eat. Her concern for him intensified. He hadn't really eaten for days, and she knew he wasn't sleeping. Of course, she wasn't either.

"What's going to happen now?" Jeremy quietly asked.

Kurt sat across from him and regarded him with a steady look. "That entirely depends on you and Elena," he said, ignoring Alaric's presence, which, for some reason, amused the man.

"What do you mean?" Jeremy's confusion was obvious.

Kurt was quiet for a moment, threading his fingers together and gathering his thoughts. "I'm not here to dictate to you. I won't make decisions which are rightfully yours to make. I'm here to offer you options, and I will abide by whatever you choose."

Elena and Jeremy stared at him.

"We don't know each other," Kurt said. "I wish we did, but the simple fact of the matter is that we don't. I would like the opportunity to change that. However, I've been where you both are, and while your experience is your own, I would like to think that I understand. I don't want to make things more difficult for you."

"But do you want to be our guardian?" Jeremy demanded. "Do you want to be with us?"

"Absolutely."

Jeremy blinked harshly at the immediate declaration, not daring to believe it. Ever since he had learned that Jenna had named Kurt, there had been a distant hope he had tried to suppress, one which whispered to him that, Elena aside, he wasn't alone. He hadn't wanted to pay it heed, lest Kurt take back his offer. He had learned the hard way that disappointment was much more difficult to live with than indifference, feigned or not.

"What if we want to stay with Alaric?" asked a hesitant Elena.

Kurt nodded. If he was hurt, he showed no sign of it. "Then I will make sure you do, but only after he and I have a very long conversation and come to an understanding. We might not know each other, Elena, but we are family."

He paused. "I don't know anything about Alaric," he lied, "and there are things I want and _need_ to know before I would be willing to relinquish custody."

She nodded. That was certainly fair.

He looked at Jeremy. "If you want to stay with Alaric, I won't fight that decision. I will insist that he meet certain guidelines, primarily pertaining to your care and education. He is prohibited from administering the Gilbert Trust, but I will sign the house over to him so that you may remain here."

His eyes flashed. "That doesn't mean, however, that I will be leaving. I've surrendered my apartment in Providence and sold or donated most of my possessions. I fully plan on residing in Mystic Falls, even if you choose not to live with me. I'll buy my own house, but I will stay here. I'm not going anywhere."

Elena and Jeremy were silent as they assimilated that information.

Alaric was quietly impressed with the young man before him. He didn't fully trust Kurt, not yet, but he trusted him to do his best by Elena and Jeremy.

"You've changed your entire life for us," said a guilty Elena.

Kurt frowned. "What do you know about me? I'm assuming that titmouse lawyer has told you something. He's too full himself not to have."

Alaric gave a great booming laugh and Jeremy snickered.

Elena was solemn. "He mostly told us about your education. And Sam."

Kurt merely nodded, as though this were expected. "The short version, then. If you have questions, please ask them. I won't hide anything from you. You have every right to know about me prior to making your decision."

Elena blinked in shock. In her experience, most people weren't this open. "I remember when Jenna received an invitation to your father's wedding. She couldn't go, but she wanted to. Don't you have a stepbrother?"

He nodded. "Finn Hudson. He's my age and we were in the same class in school. To my everlasting mortification, I had a massive crush on him in my sophomore year. I engineered the meeting between his mother and my father solely that I could get closer to him."

They stared at him.

He grinned. "I can only imagine how that sounds. Believe me, admitting it is no walk in the park. Thankfully, Carole and my father fell in love with each other and enjoyed a happy marriage. That had nothing to do with me and everything to do with them. Even I'm not that good. Still, it was hugely embarrassing. At the time, I was a hormonal teenager reacting to the only boy who had been even remotely nonthreatening to me. I was obnoxious. I was also arrogant and manipulative, but I don't believe that I was purposefully hurtful."

They nodded.

"Finn and I have had our difficulties," he continued. "We fought for a number of years. We were jealous and resentful of each other. Finn never knew his father; Christopher had been killed in the first war in Iraq. He loved and admired my father very much, and Finn was the son I could never be. He loves football and sports and other so-called manly pursuits. Conversely, I was...very stereotypically gay, much more interested in fashion and theater and music."

"We saw videos of you," Jeremy said awkwardly. "Your singing competition in your senior year. The girls watched the cheerleading videos."

Kurt flushed deeply. "I had hoped those videos would have been removed by now," he said in a low voice, shaking his head. He sighed. "While in high school, my group of friends had what you could call a...fanboy."

He shivered. "Jacob was, and still is, obsessed with Rachel Berry, the girl who was singing with me in the opening number. As time went on, that obsession carried over to a few other members of the glee club, mostly those who were also on the cheerleading squad."

Kurt hung his head in embarrassment. "He called us the Gleerios."

Alaric, Jeremy, and Elena snickered, but not unkindly.

Kurt sighed again. "He videotaped everything we did and put it on the internet. For a while, we had our own fanlisting. Now let us never speak of it again."

They laughed harder.

He waved them off. "Back to Finn. Our problems ran deeply between us, and often put our parents at odds. I'm not embarrassed to admit that I'm very smart. You know I went to Brown, and I graduated from McKinley with a perfect GPA. I was supposed to be the valedictorian, but many of my classmates objected to a gay person giving the farewell address, so I was asked not to speak. Instead, that honor was given to the salutatorian, my best friend, Santana Lopez. Ironically, she's a lesbian, but that was somehow more acceptable to the masses."

Jeremy and Elena scowled. Alaric shook his head.

"Santana refused, as did my other best friend, Quinn Fabray, who was third in our class. The fourth and fifth persons, also friends of mine, turned the school down, as well. Finally, it fell to Rachel, who was sixth and had been raised by her two gay fathers. She accepted and then delivered a blistering lecture, scolding and shaming the entire student body and their parents, as well as the administration and faculty, for their prejudices."

"That's pretty awesome," Jeremy said.

Kurt smiled. "Rachel is awesome in many ways, both beautiful and terrible. It took us a long time to become friends, but we eventually did. In some ways, we're remarkably similar; in others, we couldn't be more different."

"And Finn?" Elena prompted.

Kurt's smile turned nostalgic. "Finn is very intelligent, but not in the same manner as myself. He's emotionally intelligent. He understands people on a fundamental level, often better than they understand themselves. He can and has abused that power, manipulating people for his own ends, even if he's not necessarily conscious of doing so. He was not at all a bad person, but was very insecure."

He paused. "Finn had his difficulties in school. He's not a scholar. He could have done better had he applied himself. He was very popular and the quarterback of the football team, and once dated Quinn, who was the head cheerleader before I assumed the role." He bit his lip. "A lot happened between them, which I won't go into, and I don't think he ever really recovered from their breakup."

He shrugged. "Finn is a very social person. I never have been, and am often uncomfortable in such situations, though I can fake it with the best of them." He frowned. "What many don't understand about popular people is how lonely they often are. Popularity can be very superficial, and Finn longed to establish deep connections with other people, for relationships of real depth. My circle of friends was always notoriously small, but we were, and still are, inordinately close. We can go for years without speaking and then pick up the phone as though no time has passed. That bothered Finn. It still does, to an extent."

"Is he okay now?" Jeremy felt compelled to ask.

Kurt nodded happily. "He is. He's made a very good life for himself. He went to college in New York and got his degree. He and Rachel began dating our sophomore year in high school, though they broke up and reunited several times. They're now married with a daughter and living on Long Island." He glanced at Alaric. "Finn is a history teacher at their local high school, while Rachel rules the Long Island musical theater community with an iron fist in a velvet glove."

They smiled at him.

"It took us a while to become brothers, and even longer to become friends," he added, "but we got there. We're all very close." He withdrew his phone from his pocket and scrolled through his pictures, find one in particular and proudly presenting to his cousins. "This is their daughter, Cosette."

Elena squealed. "She's adorable!"

Alaric grinned, and even Jeremy had a soft smile on his face

"She is," Kurt said primly, "and she likes me better than she does her own mother, so all is right with the world."

Elena shrieked with hysterical laughter, as Jeremy doubled over in mirth. Alaric had a brief flash of understanding; that comment had been more illustrative of Kurt's true personality than the calm and collected persona he had so far put forth.

"Rachel and I were fiercely competitive in high school," Kurt elaborated. "It never sat well with her that I was so talented. As you heard in the video, her voice is remarkable, but she was never as technically proficient as me. Her voice is much more powerful than my own, and I resented that for a number of years. No matter how hard I trained, and, before she was accepted at NYADA, her training had not been nearly as demanding as mine, I could never match her. I still can't."

"Your voice is amazing," Elena said with conviction.

He blushed again. "Thank you. I appreciate that. Still, I will never be able to do what she does, and I'm embarrassed that I was as jealous of her as I was. It was only after she started NYADA that she began to appreciate my talents and admitted that she had been as jealous of me as I had been of her."

"Why didn't you become a singer?" Jeremy asked.

Kurt sighed. "I love music. It's my passion, but it's not the only one. When I joined the glee club in high school, it was because I wanted an avenue to express myself, and because I felt safe there. Still, music has always been intensely personal to me. There was a time when I wanted the accolades and approval, but the more I sang, the more that desire diminished. Instead, music became a type of therapy for me, and I became more guarded when it came to performing.

"By the time I went off to Brown, I knew that I would major in music, but performing was no longer the goal. Instead, I delved more deeply into theory and composition, believing that the more I understood the music, the better I would better understand myself."

"Did that work?" asked a dubious Alaric.

"It did," Kurt said. "I performed when it was demanded of me, usually when it was required for a class, but it was no longer a joyous experience. Rachel revels in the showmanship, but I lost that drive after Dad died. Now, I only sing when I'm moved." He bit his lip and looked down at the table. "I haven't sung since Sam died." He trembled. "I haven't..._felt_...since Sam died."

* * *

**End Note**: I felt this was the necessary place to end the chapter, as I didn't want to make it overly long. The next will see the conclusion of their discussion. As always, I welcome your comments and questions. Please feel free to drop a review, submit a query on my Formspring, or tweet me. The links are in my profile. Thank you for reading.


	6. A Tabled Discussion, Part Two

Elena, Jeremy, and Alaric all watched, somewhat stunned, as Kurt blinked and a mask descended over his features. He had instantly reined in his emotions regarding Sam's death.

Their reaction to this was decidedly mixed. Elena was saddened that Kurt now felt so uncomfortable. Jeremy envied his cousin's ability to project absolutely nothing when he so chose. Finally, there was Alaric, whose mild gaze belied the intense scrutiny with which he was studying Kurt.

There was something fascinating about Kurt Hummel, Alaric decided. It wasn't that he found Kurt particularly unique; after all, he'd held more than his own share of secrets. It wasn't even so much that Kurt was abnormally controlled. It was that he was positive that Kurt was, on some level, manipulating them, choosing to display a few calculated facets of his personality in order to gain their trust.

He wasn't sure as to Kurt's ultimate goal, but it was apparent that the young man was working some agenda, and he wanted to know what it was.

"Is anyone else hungry?" Kurt asked.

Elena blinked and looked out the window, noting that the sun was now on the opposite side of the house. It was later than she had realized, but still too early for dinner. Of course, the concept of regular meals had all but been abandoned since Jenna's death.

"I could eat," Jeremy said.

She wanted to make some snarky remark. On more than one occasion she had likened her brother to a human garbage disposal. But it had been days since she'd seen Jeremy eat, let alone admit to hunger. Her concern for him trumped her duty as an antagonizing elder sister.

She nodded. "Me too."

"Pizza?" Alaric suggested.

Elena and Jeremy quickly agreed.

Kurt wrinkled his nose. "Acceptable," he finally sighed. He rolled his eyes when they laughed at him.

"I know Jeremy and Elena's standard orders," Alaric said. "What about you, Kurt?"

"Light sauce, no cheese, and broccoli, please," Kurt replied.

"Gross," hissed an appalled Jeremy.

"And you thought I was bad," Elena whispered to him.

Alaric sneered good-naturedly at Kurt. "Why don't we just go high-fiber and smear ketchup on the cardboard boxes?"

Kurt merely sniffed and waved him off to place the order. He looked at his cousins. "I like healthy food."

"Apparently," Jeremy shot back.

Kurt's eyes sparkled with approval at the signs of life Jeremy was finally exhibiting.

Meanwhile, Elena had risen to her feet and began pulling dishes down from the cupboard. "Anything else you want to tell us?" she asked her cousin.

Kurt shrugged. "As I said, anything you want to know, just ask."

"Why pathology?" Jeremy questioned, going to the refrigerator and grabbing some sodas. "For that matter, why physics?"

Kurt eyed them disdainfully. "Water, please, with a wedge of lemon, if you have it."

Jeremy rolled his eyes, made a stop at the island, grabbed a lemon from the bowl, and threw it at Kurt, who caught it smoothly in one hand.

Jeremy shook his head in frustration, placed the sodas on the table, and crossed back to the refrigerator to snag a bottle of water.

Kurt uncapped it and took a long sip. He frowned. "Odd. It's the same brand Liz offered me while in her office, but it tastes slightly different."

The others, obviously aware that Liz had slipped Kurt some vervain, made no comment, but their shoulders relaxed slightly. Kurt was satisfied.

"I always excelled in science and math," Kurt said, referencing Jeremy's earlier question, "and physics combined both."

"But you don't look like a geek," Jeremy objected, before flushing.

"Well, thank goodness for that," Kurt drawled, his tone laced with bemusement. "Contrary to popular belief, you don't have to be a geek, nerd, or dork in order to enjoy learning. My best friends are all very intelligent, but would never have classified themselves in those terms."

"The ones you mentioned earlier?" Elena asked, jumping on the tidbit. "Santana and Quinn, right?"

Kurt nodded. "Santana is a lawyer and lives in Philadelphia. She graduated from Penn State and then completed Penn Law. She's also my personal attorney. She's absolutely vicious and is incapable of showing mercy. I adore her."

Elena stared at him.

"Quinn is a lobbyist for Planned Parenthood, which is somewhat bizarre, considering she's an avowed Republican. She studied political science at Georgetown, and received her graduate degree in government from The George Washington University. She lives in DC. I stopped off to visit her on my way here."

"What drew you three together?" Elena asked. "Was it the Cheerios?"

Kurt cocked his head. "Not just that, but it was part of it. We were also in glee club together. Quinn was the captain of the Cheerios when we were freshman, and for part of our sophomore year."

"A freshman was captain?" she demanded.

He nodded. "I assumed the role for the rest of the sophomore year, and remained captain for our junior and senior years." He hesitated. "Quinn was forced to resign because she became pregnant. She had her baby and gave it up for adoption."

"Wow," Jeremy said, shaking his head. "That must have sucked."

"Very much so," Kurt agreed, "but Quinn made the best decision she could for herself and her child." He paused. "I was, and still am, very proud of her. Santana is a lesbian who had difficulty acknowledging that fact, and acted out throughout high school." He smirked. "Strangely, they both dated Sam before he and I got together."

Alaric blinked. "Yet you remained friends?"

Kurt nodded earnestly. "Oh, yes! I guess I should explain that Sam was bisexual, not gay. He chose to be with me because of who I am, not because he was driven by biology." He smiled fondly. "I love Quinn and Santana deeply. I can't even imagine my life without them in it." He shrugged. "They both cared for Sam, and he for them, but neither couple was well-matched. Quinn and Santana were very encouraging when Sam and I announced we were together, and they became incredibly protective of us."

"That's nice," Elena said, a soft smile on her face.

"It was," Kurt said, beaming. "It was also desperately needed. As you can imagine, being the only openly gay student at the local high school of a conservative, Midwestern town, I was not well-regarded amongst my classmates."

"Was it bad?" Jeremy asked.

"Yes," Kurt said honestly. "It was very bad. I transferred to a private preparatory academy for a few months in my junior year to escape it. Quinn replaced me during that time, but didn't fare well." He frowned. "I'm still bothered by the fact that I chose to run from my problems." He sighed. "Still, I hadn't much choice at the time. I was being stalked and had received multiple death threats."

Alaric shook his head. "That's insane."

Kurt declined to comment, but shot Elena an understanding smile when he noticed the tears in her eyes. "I'm fine, now," he assured her. He cleared his throat. "I'd like to speak with you all about something."

"Sure," Elena said, sitting down.

"Before the service, I posed this question to Liz Forbes, but now I'd like your take on it. Is my being gay going to be a problem in Mystic Falls? Specifically, will it create problems for any of you? If so, I will not be offended if don't wish to associate with me in public."

Jeremy's eyes widened as Elena sputtered incoherently. Alaric said nothing, more interested in how the teenagers would respond.

"Elena and I both have gay friends at school," Jeremy said. "I've never seen or heard about anyone having a problem with gay people." He looked to his sister, who shook her head. "Look, Kurt, the bottom line is that you're our family. We don't care that you're gay, anymore than you care that we're straight. If someone has a problem with you, they have a problem with us, and we'll deal with it if it happens."

"Absolutely," Elena said, nodding firmly, working herself up in a frenzy of self-righteousness. "I'll just send Caroline after them."

Jeremy guffawed, his eyes filling with tears of mirth. "Man, she'd _so_ clean their clocks." Even without the vampire powers, he silently added.

Kurt looked at Alaric. "What about you, Alaric? If Jeremy and Elena decide that they want us both as guardians, people will make assumptions about the two of us."

Alaric gave a mild shrug. "Let them. If they do, they're dicks, and I don't want them hanging around me."

Kurt blinked several times and then stared down at the table. "Thank you," he said softly.

* * *

"What do you think about Caroline?" Elena asked Kurt after swallowing her first piece of pizza.

Kurt frowned. "I think she's a beautiful girl," he replied. "Why?"

She shrugged. "Something Bonnie said. She noticed that when you looked at Caroline, it was like you were seeing someone else."

He grinned. "Bonnie's a smart girl, and she was right. Caroline reminds me of my best friend, Brittany Pierce."

"How many best friends do you have?" Alaric demanded.

Kurt thought about that. "Including Sam, and I still include him, six. There are two others I regard as very close friends, and three more I know would provide me with bail money if I ever needed it."

They stared at him.

Finally, Elena nodded. "So, Santana, Quinn, Brittany, Sam...who are the others?"

"Finn and my friend, Mercedes, I count as best friends. The others are the remaining members of my old glee club." His eyes suddenly appeared hazy. "You have to understand that, during high school, for better or worse, we were all each other had. Some of us were popular, some of us were notorious, and others were geeks or outcasts, but we always had each other." He shrugged. "In some ways, we always will."

"I take it you were one of the notorious ones?" Alaric drawled.

"Indeed. I was openly gay, the valedictorian, the captain of the cheerleading squad, a member of the football team for a brief time, and in the glee club. I didn't fit into one particular category, and therefore people didn't know what to make of me." Kurt frowned. "I suppose it didn't help matters that I could have cared less about their approval. Popularity was like currency, and while I was well-known, I really wasn't interested in pleasing or placating anyone, so I didn't trade upon it."

"You were on the football team?" asked a surprised Jeremy.

"Like I said, for a brief time. The Titans were a particularly terrible team. I joined my sophomore year, mostly to prove myself to my father, who, while proud of me, was also confused as to why I would bother engaging in an activity which I didn't understand and bored me to tears."

Jeremy chortled. "You played football and didn't understand the game?"

Kurt shrugged. "I was the kicker. I won them their only game that season."

"Why did you quit?"

Kurt paused before answering. "They were scared of me. They didn't want to be alone with me in the locker room."

Jeremy's eyes hooded. "So what you're basically saying is that you were awesome but they treated you like shit."

"That would be an accurate estimation," Kurt agreed. "I wasn't too upset, given that I didn't care for the sport, but I was somewhat hurt that the general belief was that I was a pervert out to molest or convert any boy on whom I laid eyes."

"God, people are stupid," Elena muttered. She cleared her throat and raised her gaze. "So, what's Brittany like?"

Happiness danced in his eyes, and the other three thought it was the most animated he had been while in their company.

"Brittany is the most ridiculous person you will ever meet," he gushed. "She's a literal genius, with an IQ well into the one-sixties, but couldn't have cared less about her academic performance. She would often get lost in the hallways between classes. Finn used to cheat off her exams in their math class, so she would write down inane things, like the square root of four was rainbows. Despite knowing it was the wrong answer, he copied it down."

Jeremy doubled over laughing, beating the table with a fist. Elena was howling. Even Alaric chuckled.

Kurt's smile was one of absolute adoration. "She calls me her Dolphin." At their questioning look, he smirked. "Dolphins are just gay sharks. Didn't you know?"

Their laughter renewed itself.

He shook his head fondly. "For two years, Brittany was convinced her cat, Lord Tubbington, was reading her diary and plotting the apocalypse, with her as his unwitting agent. Our glee club instructor used to pull our assignments from this ridiculous and offensively ugly hat in his possession, and Brittany was positive that a duck lived in that hat and hid from her whenever she was in the room."

His face softened. "Once she found a wounded bird in the school parking lot, so she kept it in her locker and nursed it back to health. She was devastated when the time came to release it." He bit his lip. "She is the kindest, gentlest, and most generous person I have ever known. It is a privilege to call her my friend."

Elena sniffled.

"What does she do now?" Alaric asked.

Kurt smirked. "She lives in Seattle and works for a green energy company, after graduating _summa cum laude_ from Stanford with a degree in chemical engineering."

He laughed outright at their stunned faces.

* * *

"Do your friends like each other?" Jeremy asked Kurt.

Kurt blinked. "That's an interesting question. The answer is, not really." He paused. "It can be very difficult, being the only common denominator of a group."

Jeremy nodded, which led Kurt to question silently many things.

"Why don't they?" asked an interested Elena.

Kurt's lips twitched. "You're a cheerleader. You tell me."

She was flabbergasted. "I'm not now, but how did you know?"

He shrugged. "It's a skill you'll develop as you grow older. You learn to look at other people and intuit what you share in common."

She gave him the side-eye and thought about his question. "The politics of it all were horrible," she finally said. "I was never really sure who wanted to be my friend, who was looking for an ally, or who wanted me gone."

He nodded. "It's much the same with my inner circle."

"Okay, Voldemort," Alaric joked.

Kurt burst out laughing. It was surprisingly deep and reminiscent of a full-on evil cackle.

"As I explained earlier, Quinn was the captain before me. She was very good, but she was also the favorite of our coach. That all ended when Quinn became pregnant. After she gave Beth up for adoption, she was reluctantly allowed back on the team, but the damage to her image and reputation had been done. Truthfully, she hadn't been well liked.

"Santana always wanted to be the captain," he continued, "and she definitely had the talent for it. Quinn often used Santana as muscle, and Santana complied, likely because she was bored and loved intimidating people. Neither one intimidated me, which led to a mutual respect among the three of us.

"Quinn ruled because she possesses an almost otherworldly air of menace, but was dethroned. Santana ruled by outright fear, but people won't follow you if they believe they can't trust you to protect them. I ruled because I united the team under the banner of partial equality. While I had my own court, I honestly wanted what was best for the team as a whole. They appreciated that, and it was enough for them."

He paused. "Santana and Quinn have a very interesting, but strange, dynamic. Quinn is very much like me: cold, indifferent, and uncaring of the people around her."

"You're not like that," protested a startled Elena.

"You don't know me very well," Kurt said kindly. "Also, you're family."

She was both warmed and troubled by his words.

"I'm not a nice person," he said. "I don't like most people, and I trust very few. I am stubborn and can be very cruel with my words and deeds. It took me many years to temper my arrogance and obnoxiousness. I finally conquered them, but not before permanently alienating a lot of people."

He looked long and hard at her, and then at Jeremy.

"It's important that you understand this about me. We may not know each other, but I love you. Family is the most important thing in the world to me, and I protect my own with a determination that can be frightening. I never want you to fear me, but I want you to know that I will always fight for you. I will protect you at the expense of everyone else, including myself."

Elena swallowed heavily, unsure as to what she was feeling. Jeremy, on the other hand, felt as though he was finally beginning to understand his cousin, and he liked what he had heard. Alaric had no doubt that Kurt meant every word.

"Quinn shares these traits with me, as does Santana," he continued, "though our approaches differ. Like I said, Quinn is very much like me. She can be utterly ruthless, and she's dangerous because she's the enemy you will never see coming. She uses her angelic appearance, while I capitalize on the fact that most people see me as non-threatening.

"Santana, on the other hand, is fiery and confrontational. I'm not one to subscribe to stereotypes, but, over the years, many have suggested she's this way because of her Latin heritage." He shrugged. "That's neither here nor there, I suppose. She's quick to jump to conclusions, usually the right ones. She despises rhetoric but excels it, which explains her choice of profession."

"And Brittany?" Jeremy asked.

"Mostly uninterested. Brittany cares for her friends and family, and, in turn, those about whom we care. She's a lovely person, as long as no one hurts Santana or myself. When that happens, there's no safe place to hide." He cocked his head. "Admittedly, that is why Santana and I have kept things from her, because we don't know what she would do."

"This is fairly unbelievable," Alaric remarked, "yet I believe everything you're saying."

Kurt smirked. "Before I joined the group, Brittany, Santana, and Quinn were known as the Unholy Trinity. Once I was added, we became the Four Horseman."

Elena stared. "What aren't you saying?"

"That should be obvious." He turned to Alaric. "You did your homework before my arrival. Do you honestly think I didn't do mine?"

Jeremy's eyes gleamed. Things just got interesting.

* * *

"How about some coffee?" Kurt asked briskly. Before any of them could respond, he was on his feet and navigating the kitchen with ease.

"What are you?" Elena whispered.

"Not a doppelganger, vampire, or werewolf," Kurt replied, carefully measuring the water in the coffee pot.

"Then you must be a witch," Alaric guessed, wondering why he was so untroubled by these revelations. "There's nothing else left."

Kurt turned and regarded him. "That's not true at all," he quietly said.

"You mean there's other stuff out there?" asked Jeremy in a sickly voice.

Kurt nodded. "Absolutely, but I have no reason to believe they're present in Mystic Falls, and I doubt they will put in any appearances."

"Are you a witch?" Elena asked.

"I am," Kurt easily replied, "but not like those with which you are familiar."

"So you're not like Bonnie," Jeremy said.

Kurt was silent for a long moment. "Bonnie is tremendously powerful," he finally said. "She can use magic, but she doesn't possess it herself. I do."

"There are different types of witches?"

"Yes, just like there are different types of vampires. Werewolves, however, despite having differing traditions, are the same all over the world."

"What do you know?" Elena demanded.

"That's an interesting question," Kurt observed, setting the coffee maker to brew. "I know many things. For example, I know that Caroline and Damon are vampires, and that the missing Stefan is, as well. I know that Tyler Lockwood is a werewolf. I can sense the resurrection spells on the rings that Jeremy and Alaric are wearing."

He retrieved four mugs from the cabinet. "I know that Matt Donovan believes himself in love with Caroline, yet would happily sacrifice himself to save you. I know that no matter what Elizabeth Forbes feels about vampires, she loves her daughter. She'd rather Caroline be a vampire than be dead, though she'll never admit it, not even to herself. Not yet, at any rate."

"Other types of vampires?" Alaric asked, still stuck on that point.

Kurt clucked his tongue. "I know of two others, but it's best we don't dwell on that topic. It's never good to draw their attention. Suffice it to say, I've seen what they, and the kind that reside here, can do."

"And what can you do?" Elena barked.

Kurt stared at her. "That entirely depends on what you want me to do."

She frowned. "What does that mean?"

"I'm not here to do anything except take care of you and Jeremy, Elena," he said patiently. "I have no love or hatred for vampires. I hold no ill-will for werewolves and am uninterested in challenging Bonnie for the position of Town Witch."

He paused. "When I learned what Mystic Falls truly was, I was worried, but only because of the concern I have for you and your brother. I have no master plan for ending the vampire race. I have no desire to hurt Stefan or his brother, unless, of course, they hurt you." He raised a brow. "Should that happen, all bets are off, and your approval or disapproval will not enter into the equation. I want to keep you alive. I want you to be happy."

She had no idea what to say to that, how to react to any of this, so she said nothing.

Jeremy snorted. "I wonder what Damon will think about all of this."

"I'll ask him later," Kurt said dismissively.

"What do you mean?" Alaric asked.

Kurt shrugged. "He just tripped the ward I placed on my hotel room. I figured it would only be a matter of time before someone went snooping, and I'm not surprised it was him. I'm sure he'll be waiting when I return, wanting to know why he couldn't enter."

"Aren't you scared?" Elena growled. "They could..._you_ could..."

"Die?" Kurt gently supplied. "We all die, Elena. You know this. You had to learn it early, just like I did. A healthy amount of fear is requisite to staying alive. So, yes, I am scared, but not of Damon. There's nothing he can do to me."

"He could compel you," Jeremy challenged.

"No, he can't."

"And how's that?" asked a skeptical Alaric.

"People can only be compelled if they're incapable of guarding their minds," Kurt answered. "I've been guarding mine for a very long time now." He began pouring the coffee. "Compelling someone is not as easy as it appears, and not every vampire of Damon's type can accomplish it. Those who do, however, become very skilled. When they come across someone they cannot compel, they don't know what to do."

He set a mug before each of them. "Compelling is very similar to hypnosis. Those who are unable to be hypnotized are also incapable of being compelled."

"He could hurt you," Elena insisted.

"He could try," Kurt agreed, "but I could hurt him far worse, which he'll discover, but only if necessary."

"I can't decide whether you're arrogant or confident," Alaric said.

Kurt chuckled. "It can be a fine line, but I know myself, Alaric. I know exactly what my capabilities are, as well as my limits."

"What are your limits?"

"Very few," was all Kurt would say. He looked at each of them in turn. "I think it's time I asked a few questions."

Jeremy nodded. Alaric agreed that it was only fair. Elena drew her mug toward her mouth with shaking hands.

"Who killed Jenna?" Kurt asked. "Who turned her into a vampire?"

"You know about that?" whispered a shocked Elena.

"Santana was able to get me a copy of the autopsy results," he said. "It was obvious from the report. Who did it?"

"Klaus," she mumbled.

He raised an eyebrow. That explained a few things. He feigned a look of indifferent ignorance. "What is a Klaus?"

Jeremy snickered darkly.

"An Original!" Elena all but shrieked.

Kurt stared blankly at her.

"An Original vampire!" she bellowed. "One of the first!"

He was decidedly unimpressed. "Are you aware that these types of vampires are only about a thousand years old?"

They nodded, incredulous that he didn't even appear perturbed, as though a thousand-year-old murdering fiend wasn't terrifying.

"I've met vampires whose lines predate humanity. This Klaus does not frighten me."

"Predate humanity?" Jeremy mouthed. What in the hell?

"Then you're a fool," Elena hissed. "He killed Jenna and he turned her, all to get to me. The only reason he's not here now is because we faked my death."

"What did he want with you?" Kurt asked, his tone maddeningly reasonable.

They told him about the curse, of how Klaus was a hybrid and how he was desperate to make more like himself.

Kurt's response was wholly inappropriate laughter. "That's it? That was his grand plan?" He shook his head. "And what was killing you supposed to solve?"

She stared at him in outrage, mouth open comically wide, as she all but trembled with rage.

"Elena," he said in a soft, musical voice, "it doesn't make any sense. One, this curse could only have been created by a witch. Two, spells _always_ have loopholes, backdoors, and feedback traps. Three, the curse was obviously created specifically against _him_, which means the witch who cast the spell was aware that he would attempt to find a way around it and undoubtedly took steps and laid misdirection. Four, killing a doppelganger has no intrinsic magical value."

"Huh?" Jeremy asked.

"Doppelgangers, true doppelgangers, are exceedingly rare," Kurt explained, "but not so much that witches are unfamiliar with them. Blood magic is some of the oldest in existence. It is easily cast, but _not _easily controlled. Blood magic requires blood to maintain itself. If the source of that blood no longer exists, what happens to the spell?"

"It fails," Alaric said in wonder, having quickly put the pieces together.

Kurt nodded.

"So?" asked a confused Elena. "That was the whole point of the curse! My blood broke it."

"Yes, your _blood_," Kurt agreed, "Loss of life was not required for that. Klaus didn't have to kill you; he simply needed your blood. He had been led to believe, either by his own research or by others, that sacrificing you was the only way to accomplish his goal. He misunderstood the spell."

Alaric's eyes lighted. "So it didn't work."

"Oh, no," Kurt said. "I'm quite sure it worked. He got Elena's blood and broke the curse, but he didn't give any thought to what comes after. Witches don't take life unless in defense of their own. It's anathema to us. So why would a witch require the murder of an innocent person to break a spell of their own creation?"

Elena had to concede his point. "So he was never meant to kill me."

"Correct."

"So what will happen next?" Jeremy asked, hesitantly placing a hand over that of his sister.

Kurt frowned. "I can offer an hypothesis." At their nods, he continued. "Most likely, Klaus is off trying to sire hybrids. He will fail, but not understand why. I don't imagine it will be too long, however, until he reaches the conclusion that he misinterpreted the curse. He will retrace his steps, and come back here to try and determine what he did wrong."

He looked at Elena sadly. "You've bought yourself some time, but not much."

"Do you know what he did wrong?" Alaric asked.

"I have conjecture," Kurt said. "In my opinion, Elena's blood was required not only to break the curse, but to sire the hybrids. He can't create them without her." He turned to regard his cousin. "You still hold value for him. Jeremy, Alaric, and your friends, however, do not. He won't harm you, but he will use them to control you. He will kill them to force your hand."

She swallowed heavily and stared down at the table.

"And that raises the question of why," Kurt added. "Why Elena Gilbert and not some other doppelganger?"

"There are others?" she whispered.

"Yes, of course. Therefore, the only conclusion I can reach is that the witch who created the curse tied it to the blood of one your ancestors."

"A Petrova," she said. "I'm of the Petrova line."

That meant nothing to Kurt, who ignored it. "That's unimportant," he said. "The name is irrelevant. It's who this ancestor was - more importantly, who they were to Klaus and this witch - that matters."

Alaric's mouth fell open. "The curse was designed to restrain Klaus, and the witch tied it to someone Klaus cared about, probably believing he wouldn't harm them."

"I think you're half-right," Kurt said. "I believe it's much more likely that the witch didn't like this ancestor, and tied the curse to her line because the witch planned on doing away with the doppelganger themselves."

"But you said witches don't take lives!" Jeremy protested.

"Moral witches usually don't, but there's magic in everything, including death. This curse, whatever its purpose, was created out of desperation. It was created to bind another. Either the witch believed Klaus loved this ancestor enough that he wouldn't extinguish her line, or the ancestor had done something to the witch, who found it unforgivable. It's probably the latter."

"Two birds with one stone," Alaric surmised.

Kurt nodded. "Doppelgangers are supernatural creatures, but they're also genetic aberrations. People don't give birth to clones. A doppelganger will appear, on average, about once every five hundred years. This unnamed witch most likely believed Klaus would be dead before the next doppelganger was born." He sighed. "Obviously, that didn't happen."

"But you believe Klaus won't hurt me?" Elena asked.

Kurt shook his head. "I said that I doubt he will harm you. That's entirely different. Hurting you physically won't bother him. He needs you alive, but not necessarily comfortable. Everyone else, however, is expendable to him."

Jeremy put his head in his hands and moaned. "I don't even know how we got on this topic."

Kurt shrugged. "My careful maneuvering. I dislike pretense, and I have no interest in playing games. I was rather hoping that you all would have told me _something_ about what's been happening in this town, but when you didn't, I forced the issue."

The three looked equal parts shocked, guilty, and resentful.

"You took away our choice," Elena angrily said.

"I took nothing from you," Kurt sharply replied. "I didn't force you to tell me anything. I laid a few abstract clues, upon which you seized, to suggest the fact I knew more than I should have. I don't subvert the free will of others." His scowl was thunderous.

Elena realized she had touched a nerve and wisely backed off. She also realized the veracity of his words. He had laid a trap into which they had easily fallen. The results of that were on them.

"You really are here to help us," Jeremy said slowly. "You...you l-love us."

"Of course I do," Kurt whispered. "As I've said, you and your sister are the only family I have left. Even if I weren't a witch, even if I'd had no idea about the situation into which I was walking, I would still be here, loving and wanting to protect you.

"The fact that I _do_ understand, that I _am_ a witch, and that I _will _use my magic in your defense changes nothing."

"You would kill to protect us?" Elena asked

"Would you kill to protect Jeremy? Caroline and Bonnie? Alaric?" Kurt asked. "You know the answer."

"But you don't know us," she said, in a small voice.

"Yes, I do. I know that you're a good person. I know that you blame yourself for the position you're in. I know that you love and miss Jenna and your parents so much that you can't sleep at night. I know that you worry constantly about Jeremy."

He raised a brow. "I know these things because I've been there, Elena, and it has nothing to do with doppelgangers, vampires, werewolves, or magic."

Tears rolled down her face.

"It's not death that terrifies you, but the prospect that you'll live. It's the idea that you'll survive the deaths of everyone else you love, and will thus be truly alone."

"Oh, god," she whimpered, hugging herself tightly.

"I live with the same fear every day, as does Jeremy. What I said at the funeral was true: you're not alone, Elena, but only you can decide to let us stand with you. That is the only part of all of this over which you have control. No matter what you do, no matter what choices you make, you cannot control the choices of others. You cannot control their lives _or _their deaths. You can only make the decision that you don't want to bear this alone."

"I don't," she whispered, shaking her head. "I don't, but I'll get all of you killed. Klaus, some other vampire or werewolf or _whatever_ will take you from me."

"But Kurt's right," Jeremy said, "you can't control that. None of us can." His eyes shined with tears. "You're all I have. Kurt's our cousin, and I like Alaric a lot, but you're my sister. When it comes down to it, I will always choose you. You need to let me make that choice."

She sobbed into her hands.

Kurt said nothing, merely looking at them, but taking note of Alaric's stare.

Alaric was certain, though he could never hope to prove it, that this was exactly what Kurt had been trying to accomplish. For the life of him, he could never consider it a bad thing.


	7. Declarations

By unspoken agreement, they had moved into the living room. Jeremy took one of the overstuffed chairs, while Alaric and Elena sat together on the sofa. For some reason, Jeremy was annoyed by this, knowing that the two were closer than most suspected. It bothered him because, while he liked and even admired Alaric, the man viewed him as a child, but Elena as an equal, despite there being only a year separating them.

That had always been the case. Everyone who looked at him saw him first as Elena's Younger Brother, and second as _Jeremy_, as though he wasn't a person in his own right. Growing up in Mystic Falls, he had gotten used to the fact that most people regarded him as the son of Grayson and Miranda Gilbert. He had even somewhat reveled in it. He hadn't appreciated that the eyes of the entire town were always on him, but he had also been raised to feel safe and protected.

It was when he started school that everything changed. Suddenly, he was no longer the Gilbert son, but the youngest Gilbert. All of his instructors had taught Elena and crowed they could expect great things from him, as well; invariably, they were disappointed. He was smart, but not book smart, as his sister was. Everywhere he went, everything he did, everyone he met, Elena had done it all first.

As much as he loved her, would gladly die for her, he resented her. It wasn't even anything she had done, but more because of who she was, which just left him feeling guilty. She couldn't help being intelligent and beautiful. She was a genuinely nice and caring person. For as long as he could remember, she had held the town somewhat in her thrall, but it had to be excused because she honestly hadn't known she was doing it. She was just herself, and she didn't view that as being anything particularly special.

He sighed and shifted restlessly, watching as she stared at Kurt with both awe and fear. He understood the awe well enough. It wasn't every day that an almost unknown relation dropped in, announced he was a really powerful witch, and vowed to protect you even if it cost him his life.

Jeremy had to admit that he had a very small, platonic crush on his cousin. Kurt had arrived and treated him like an adult. Jeremy asked questions and Kurt provided him with honest answers. There was none of that _you're too young_ or _you'll understand when you're older_ bullshit. Kurt had just accepted Jeremy as a peer, as someone who had the right to make decisions about his own life. How awesome was that?

It was Elena's fear he didn't understand. There was nothing malevolent about Kurt; or, if there was, it wasn't aimed at them. He'd been nothing but truthful with them, about himself and his intentions, despite the fact that they'd initially been evasive. Jeremy was sure there was a lot Kurt was holding back, but, if they asked the right questions, he was betting Kurt would answer.

So why was his sister afraid?

Was she scared Kurt would try to separate her from Stefan? Jeremy scratched his head. Stefan was cool, and he treated Elena well. At least, he had. Who the hell knew what he was doing now, since he was traveling around with Klaus? Still, Stefan had willingly sacrificed himself for Elena. Jeremy couldn't deny, however, that if it was in his power, he'd get his sister as far away from the Salvatore brothers as possible.

As for Alaric, well, he was just as mysterious as ever. The man wasn't easy to read, so Jeremy really didn't know what Alaric thought of Kurt, but he had the sense that Alaric Saltzman was reluctantly impressed.

Kurt stood, gazing at the pictures on the fireplace mantel. Jeremy wondered what it was he saw. Did he see the pictures of their once-happy family and wish he had been a part of it, or was he replacing their faces with those of his friends and parents?

As much as Kurt had revealed about himself, Jeremy was fairly certain that they had only scratched the surface.

"I meant what I said before," he said softly. "You can ask me anything."

"Vampires that predate humanity?" Jeremy trilled.

Kurt turned and regarded him placidly. "Demons."

Jeremy's mouth fell open.

Kurt looked at Elena, and then Alaric. "They're real. I'm not going to say more. You're truly better off not knowing."

Elena hastily nodded. Alaric, like Jeremy, was intensely curious, but had learned long ago to temper his curiosity with patience. He slowly nodded.

"The other vampire race of which I'm aware is, well..." Kurt frowned and then blinked. "Are any of you familiar with _Star Trek_?"

All three reluctantly raised their hands, somewhat sheepishly.

Kurt smiled. "They're very much like the Borg, in that they are of a hive mentality and overseen by a queen. Small pockets of these vampires exist throughout the world, but they tend to remain in supernatural circles and rarely interact with humans."

"But you've known vampires like Stefan, Damon, and Caroline?" Elena pressed.

"I have," Kurt replied, though he said nothing more.

"It really is like pulling teeth with you, isn't it?" asked a bemused Jeremy.

Kurt was suddenly very serious. "It's a practice I highly suggest you consider adopting. Never offer more information than what is demanded. Answer in simple declarative statements whenever possible." He paused. "Earlier, when I offered to answer any question you asked, you both thought I was being very open, perhaps even naively so. Alaric did not."

Elena and Jeremy blinked, looked at each other, and then turned to Alaric, who nodded tersely.

"Why?" asked a mystified Jeremy.

Alaric shrugged a shoulder. "By allowing you to choose the questions, Kurt controlled the answers."

They stared at him dumbly.

"Precisely," Kurt said. "I gave you information of no real consequence, nothing that couldn't have been discovered by your own investigation."

"You told us that you're a witch," Elena argued. "You told us all about your friends and your relationships with them. You don't consider that information to be of consequence?"

"No, because if you had dug further into my background, as I did yours, you would have come across the names of my friends. You admitted you researched me - for future reference, never admit such things - and I imagine you employed a search engine, most likely Google. You probably did a search on my name, as well as that of Sam."

Elena nodded.

"You easily could have learned the names of my fellow Cheerios and everyone in glee club. From that, you could have researched me further in conjunction with those names. There are articles. There are pictures. I told you nothing more than what you could have discovered for yourselves." He shrugged. "Except for the witch thing."

Looking back on it, both Jeremy and Elena could see how right he was.

"I knew what you would ask - they're common questions - and I framed my responses accordingly. As for being a witch, given who your friends and acquaintances are, I don't imagine it would have taken very long for one of you to figure it out."

"Are you really that manipulative?" Elena demanded.

He arched a brow. "You deem it manipulation. I prefer to think of it as caution."

She huffed.

"You researched us?" Jeremy asked.

"Not really," Kurt said. "I researched Mystic Falls. The number of reported animal attacks was preposterous, and given what I am, what I know, the pieces fit themselves together."

"But...you seem to know us, what we think and how we feel," Jeremy persisted.

"We're family," Kurt said. "We're connected on a basic level. I understand you because I understand myself."

Jeremy fell silent at that. He had no clue just who the hell he was, and he somewhat resented that Kurt was able to read him so easily.

"What did you learn about us?" Elena asked.

"I learned a lot about Alaric, and about Isobel and John."

Elena stiffened.

"Do you want to know what I think about that information?"

Hesitantly, she nodded.

"It's of no consequence."

"What?" she gasped.

"You are the daughter of Miranda and Grayson Gilbert," he continued. "They raised you. They loved you. They are who informed the person you've become. I have no interest in who contributed to your genetic makeup; that's just biology. I never knew Isobel and, frankly, I never liked John. They might have created your body, but you created your character, with help from your parents and brother, the Gilberts."

He stared at her. "Miranda was my cousin. You are my cousin." He arched a brow. "You're _Elena Gilbert_. You're not a Petrova. You're not the daughter of John and Isobel. You're not the girlfriend of the vampire Stefan. You're not the doppelganger." He shook his head. "Not to me. To me, you're the girl I first met at that family reunion seven years ago, who sat on my lap and sang me every Disney song she knew as I put her hair into a waterfall braid."

Tears streaked down her face as she placed a shaking hand over her mouth.

"I see you," he quietly finished, "and I love what I see." He stood and crossed to her, gracefully sinking to his knees and taking her face in his hands. "Don't allow circumstances or other people to define you. I did, and for a very long time. I stood in the shadows of others, or in the shadow of my fear. Do you know what I learned?"

"What?" she whispered.

He smiled. "It's warmer in the sun."

It was at that precise moment that Alaric realized Kurt, for all of his machinations and contrived silences, was a good person. He loved his family, he would protect them, and woe unto anyone who got in his way. These were values he could respect, and he did. As for Kurt's secrets, well, everyone was entitled to their privacy. Further, Kurt was willing to discuss his life, if the right questions were asked. If they weren't, that wasn't his problem.

"Where does magic come into all of this?" Jeremy asked. "You said that, like vampires, there are different types of witches. What does that mean?"

Kurt nodded, rose to his feet, and kissed Elena's forehead before returning to his seat and studying Jeremy. "How much do you really want to know?"

"Everything."

Kurt shook his head. "That's far too vague. Ask concrete questions, unless you want esoteric answers."

Jeremy frowned and thought carefully about his words. Magic was, as far as what he knew, fairly indefinable. If Bonnie couldn't explain it well, neither could Kurt. Jeremy had thought Bonnie was being purposefully obtuse, but now he realized she had no idea how to provide him the answers he sought.

"How is your magic different from Bonnie's?" he finally asked.

Kurt's eyes lighted with approval, and Jeremy felt as though he had won a prize or passed a test. "As I said earlier, Bonnie can wield magic, but it isn't a part of her. In essence, she's a vessel, a conduit for the magic held by her family line."

He cocked his head. "Don't mistake this as me being unimpressed by her. On the contrary, I find her to be very impressive. She's the strongest witch of her kind that I've ever encountered, and her power will only grow with the passage of time. That said, her potential is limited. She's powerful, but eventually she will reach an apex."

"Her power will plateau," Elena said.

"Exactly. She can only go so far. She will most likely go farther than any witch of her family, but her ability is finite."

"And yours isn't," Alaric guessed.

Kurt was silent for a very long moment. "When I say that magic is a part of me, I mean that I am, essentially, magic. I don't channel it. I don't possess it. I _am_ magic. My power will never plateau. It will only increase as I grow older and more comfortable in what I can do."

He paused. "Tell me how Bonnie uses her magic. More precisely, how she accesses it."

"Through spells," Elena said in confusion. "With chants and rituals." Her eyes widened. "You don't have to do that."

"Correct. I don't ask my magic to do something; rather, I tell it what to do. Anything is possible. However, that is not to say that I can't or don't use spells. I do, but I don't need them for most things."

Jeremy processed that. "So, Bonnie calls upon the magic of her family. You call upon...yourself?"

Kurt nodded. "Yes."

"Can you give us an example?" Alaric asked.

Kurt blinked, flicked a finger, and every candle in the house lighted itself, as did a crackling fire in the hearth. Another flick, and all were extinguished.

"But Bonnie can do that," Jeremy argued.

"Kurt didn't say a spell," Elena whispered. "He didn't even have to concentrate or focus himself. It was immediate."

Kurt then waved his hand, and every piece of furniture in the room, including those upon which they were sitting, rose a foot into the air. Another wave, and they touched back down.

"You have powers," Alaric marveled. "Identifiable magical powers."

"Yes," Kurt said.

"Pyrokinesis and telekinesis," Alaric pressed.

"Yes."

"Oh, my god," Elena breathed.

"What else?" asked an eager Jeremy.

Kurt smiled. "What is telekinesis?"

"The ability to move objects with your mind," Alaric promptly answered.

"So what's the logical extension of that?"

Jeremy and Elena had no idea, which was obvious, but Alaric's eyes widened and then narrowed in thought.

"You can teleport," he said flatly.

Kurt nodded and stood. "Well done. I'll return in ten minutes."

With that, he was gone.

* * *

Elena and Jeremy sat and stared stupidly at the vacant place which Kurt had just occupied.

"Did that just happen?" Jeremy barked.

His sister nodded. "I think so," she said faintly. She shook her head. "Teleportation," she whispered. "Amazing."

"Where do you think he went?" Jeremy asked.

As the two debated the possibilities, Alaric was silent.

Despite the life he had lived the past several years, despite the fact that he had seen and done more than most people could ever hope to understand, he was still surprised to be confronted with someone like Kurt, to see such magic on display.

Honestly, it scared him. He still believed Kurt to be a good person, but magic was neither good nor evil in and of itself. He couldn't even posit what someone with evil intent could accomplish with powers such as those Kurt possessed, though he was sure such people existed. He had never even thought of it before. Now that he had, now that his eyes had been opened, he could think of nothing else.

The old axiom of _with great power comes great responsibility_ entered his mind. It was only now that he appreciated the wisdom of those words, and he appreciated that Kurt had chosen not be an asshole. Alaric only had to consider Damon to understand how drunk with power someone could become when presented with the opportunity.

Lost in his thoughts, he startled when Kurt reappeared, laden with gifts.

Kurt nodded to him and, with a wave of his hand, Elena suddenly had a lei around her neck; Jeremy, a puka-shell necklace around his; and Alaric found a bottle of rum in his hand.

They stared at Kurt in shock.

"Where did you go?" Elena asked, afraid she already knew the answer.

"Hawaii."

"W-What?" Jeremy stuttered.

"I have a condo on Oahu," Kurt said. "I teleported there, and then went down to a local market."

The sweet, sickly fragrance of the flowers wasn't the only thing causing Elena to feel nauseous. "I can't believe this," she said quietly, shaking her head. "I can't believe you just...you just _teleported_ across the _country_ and part of the Pacific Ocean as if it were nothing." She looked up at her cousin. "But I do believe it."

Kurt cocked his head. "Interesting. Neither of you is scared of me, but Alaric is."

Jeremy and Elena turned to Alaric, whose face betrayed no emotion.

"You're telepathic," he charged.

Kurt bobbed his head. "Indeed."

Elena closed her eyes.

"You can read minds?" Jeremy asked.

"I can," Kurt said. "It's not nearly as fun as you might think." He held out a hand and summoned back the bottle of rum. He opened it with the other, and a glass zoomed in from the kitchen. He caught it easily. He narrowed his eyes and the cap on the bottle unscrewed. He then poured a healthy slug into it and took a sip, reclaiming his seat.

"Think back to when you were a child, how you absorbed every new experience and lesson." He paused. "Now imagine what it would have been like were you able to read the minds of those around you, knowing what they thought, _truly thought_, gleaning information they intended to keep private, that should have been safe in their heads. You're unable to distinguish your thoughts from theirs, and you're never allowed a moment of silence within your own mind."

Elena was horrified, as was Jeremy. Alaric was unable even to contemplate how taxing it must have been for Kurt, wondering how on earth the man before him, of the child he had been, had managed to stay sane.

"You don't even know it's strange," Kurt continued, "because you've always been able to do it. You don't understand how set apart you are from everyone and everything."

He looked down at his hands, resting in his lap. "You start to realize how different you are in very small ways; so small, you're not even paying attention at first. You answer unasked questions. You know trivial things you were never told. You know that people are beginning to avoid you, but you honestly have no idea know why."

He shook his head. "At first, when you realize, you don't believe it. Even if you grow up with magic, like I did, telepathy is one of the rarest gifts in the world. Finding that out is unhelpful. Already set apart because you're a witch, you then learn that even among the so-called _special_, you're _more_ special. It's a very...unwelcome gift-with-purchase.

"Your mother sits you down and explains that people will be jealous of you, will be scared of you, because you can do things they can't. You shouldn't take offense, you shouldn't blame them for what they feel, because they can't help it anymore than you can."

"Jesus," Jeremy murmured.

"You learn things too quickly; things about love and hate and hope and envy and betrayal and sex. You learn the vocabulary before you understand the ideas. You learn the most intimate secrets about complete strangers, and you come to prefer it to learning those things about the people closest to you."

Tears streaked down Elena's face.

"You're never quite sure about what you know or how you know it. You don't know if the knowledge you possess, if the feelings you're having, are your own or those of someone else. You think you're going crazy. Sometimes you wish you were, because it would actually be easier to bear. You're forced to grow up so quickly, and even if you're able to hide your deepest secret, you can't hide everything. You mature intellectually before all of your peers, and they resent you for it. They fear you fear for it. They ridicule you for it.

"So you learn to play it off. You tell people you have hunches. You allow them to believe you're somewhat psychic. You sometimes deny it completely, denying yourself in the process. You start to hate what you can do. You start to hate yourself. You start to hate your magic, and you curse the people responsible for giving it to you."

Alaric stood, crossed to him, grabbed the bottle of rum, and took a long drink.

Kurt smiled up at him warmly and nodded.

Alaric pulled the bottle from his mouth and looked down at it in consideration. "This is the best rum I've ever had."

"I'll give your compliments to the brewer," Kurt said. "I myself am quite fond of the subtle hints of pineapple and coconut."

Alaric nodded and took another drink, which caused Kurt to narrow his eyes in thought. Elena and Jeremy observed the look and shifted restlessly in their seats. They too had noticed that Alaric, a somewhat heavy drinker, had been hitting the bottle even more than normal following Jenna's death.

_We'll give him a few weeks_, Kurt told them.

Jeremy's mouth fell open as Elena gasped. When Alaric turned toward her, she faked a coughing fit to cover.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Fine," she said weakly. "Just thirsty."

"I'll get you some water," said an unsettled Jeremy, who fled the room.

"I'll help," Kurt added, chasing after him.

* * *

Jeremy swallowed heavily as Kurt approached him.

"I'm not reading your mind," Kurt said. "I would never do that to you or Elena. I value my own privacy too much to invade that of someone else."

Jeremy exhaled and slowly nodded. "What about Alaric?"

Kurt hesitated. "I skimmed his surface thoughts," he finally confessed, looking properly chagrined. "Just enough to get a sense of him, of his intentions, then I pulled out. He loves you, Jeremy, you and Elena. He's here because he wants to be, and for no other reason. He's not here out of a sense of responsibility to Jenna or because he feels guilty that he's alive and she's not. He does love you."

Jeremy blinked harshly and nodded again. "That's why you're willing to give him guardianship if that's what we want."

"Yes," Kurt said. "If he only felt a sense of duty, I would fight him. Were that the case, he would eventually come to resent you and your sister, and I won't let that happen."

Jeremy's eyes restlessly scanned the room in lieu of something better to do.

For the first time, Kurt hugged him. "It's going to be okay," he whispered. "It will never be all right that Jenna and your parents are gone, but it will be okay. We'll make it okay. We'll get through this."

Jeremy said nothing and buried his face in Kurt's neck.

* * *

"Do you think they're okay?" Elena asked Alaric, noting how much time had passed since Jeremy and Kurt had gone into the kitchen.

"I think Jeremy's finally allowing himself to feel the loss," Alaric softly said, "and he's allowing Kurt to see it. That's a good thing."

Elena nodded. "What do you think of him? Kurt, I mean."

Alaric was silent for a very long time. "I think he loves you," he at last said. "I think you and Jeremy are his priority and he intends for it to stay that way. I think that makes you lucky." He studied her face. "You can trust him, Elena. You can count on him." He paused. "I think anyone or anything that tries to hurt you will be in for a world of pain."

She wondered what that meant for Stefan.

* * *

"What was it like after Sam died?" Jeremy quietly asked.

Kurt tried and failed to hide how much the question stung.

"I'm not trying to be flip or anything," Jeremy rushed to add. "It's just that..."

He then explained about Vicky and Anna.

Kurt suppressed a sigh and did his best not to stare a Jeremy with the pity he felt for the boy. Never had he expected Jeremy had been through so much, far too much for one his age. From what he himself could observe in these unguarded moments, Jeremy had not dealt with any of it well, if at all.

"What I said at the funeral was true," Kurt said quietly. "The losses you've experienced will never leave you, Jeremy. They stay with you. They change you. They will change you negatively if you let them."

"Is that what happened with you?" Jeremy whispered.

Kurt nodded tightly. "I became familiar with death at a very young age, before I even truly understood what it was. My mother was gone. I didn't know why. I didn't understand why she couldn't just come back. I didn't know why my father couldn't talk about her with me."

"You were all alone for that?" asked a horrified Jeremy.

"Not alone, per se," Kurt said slowly, "just...stuck. Both Dad and I stuck in this miasma of grief from which we never truly emerged. Even after he married Carole, my mother was a subject we simply didn't discuss. We both mourned her, of course, and in some ways, we reveled in our grief, but separately."

Finally, he did sigh. "And I repeated that behavior when Sam died. I pushed everyone away. All of my friends, most of my family." He shook his head sadly. "It doesn't work. It doesn't help. If you're asking my advice, I have none to give."

"Do...do you think you'll ever fall in love again?" Jeremy hesitantly asked.

Kurt blinked. "I can't even contemplate that right now. I can't imagine being with anyone other than Sam. We were together for almost seven years, Jeremy. We planned to be married. We wanted to have a family together. Sam was it for me."

"But do you think it's possible?"

Kurt smiled, though it was forced. "I've always believed that anything is possible." He blinked back tears. "The thing is, Jeremy, is that no one truly dies. They live on in all of those whose lives they touched. That's what grief is. That's why those who are left behind hurt so much."

"Do you really believe that?"

"I do, because believing anything else is just too sad. The people we've lost aren't lost to us forever, because they've changed us, and through those changes, they still live."

Jeremy's brow furrowed. "Can you..."

"Yes," Kurt interrupted. "I can see the dead."

Jeremy's eyes widened.

"What?" Elena demanded as she and Alaric entered the room.

Kurt shrugged a shoulder. "All witches can see ghosts, or earthbound spirits. We can see them, talk to them. We can also summon the dead."

Alaric's eyes bulged.

"Before I arrived, I attempted to summon Jenna," Kurt said, eyes dark. "She didn't answer my call. Neither did Miranda. I didn't attempt to summon Grayson because I wasn't biologically related to him, and if Miranda didn't come..."

Elena stared.

Kurt cleared his throat and avoided their eyes. "I was finally able to summon my father, but someone or something interfered. I don't know who or what it was. I can't imagine anything that has so much power, but I am very, very angry."

His words were punctuated by the explosion of a few wine glasses sitting on the shelf behind him.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly, blushing.

* * *

"I know it's a lot to absorb," Kurt said after the lengthy silence that followed, "but can you tell me anything of what you're feeling?"

"I'm not afraid of you," Jeremy said with no belligerence in his tone.

"I'm thankful for that," Kurt quietly said.

"Has that happened to you before?" asked a curious Elena, still not ready to discuss her thoughts on all of her cousin's many revelations.

He nodded. "Of course. Not too often, given that I don't tout the fact that I'm a witch, but there have been some...uncomfortable situations."

Alaric, Jeremy, and Elena thought about that, about how difficult it must have been for Kurt, who was already so many other things in such a small town.

"Does anyone else know that you're a witch?" Alaric carefully asked.

Kurt blinked. "Yes, of course. My father knew, and Sam. Dad was wary, but otherwise supportive. Sam thought it was...very cool. His words."

Jeremy grinned.

"What about your friends?" Elena asked.

Kurt said nothing and could not meet their gazes.

"They're witches, too," Alaric said faintly.

Elena's eyes widened. "All of them?"

"No," Kurt whispered, "but Santana, Quinn, Brittany, and Mercedes are." He cleared his throat. "Mercedes is like Bonnie; the others are like me." He gathered a breath. "I want you to know that..." he trailed off, frowning heavily.

"What?" Jeremy prompted.

"Something is wrong," Kurt said.

Elena began looking around the house as Alaric stood and grabbed a knife from the block on the island.

Kurt shook his head. "No, not here. Someone..." He closed his eyes. "One of my friends is in trouble." His frown turned into a scowl. "Who is it?"

His eyes shot open as he held out a hand, into which his phone flew and immediately began ringing.

"Whoa," Jeremy muttered.

"Santana," Kurt said. "What's happened?"

He listened for a very long time, his face becoming more and more incredulous with each passing moment.

"That's absurd!" he shouted. "Noah would never do something like that," he firmly declared, shaking his head. He covered the mouthpiece with his hand. "This will just take a moment. I'm sorry for the interruption." He went back to his conversation. "Tell me everything."

Elena, Jeremy, and Alaric exchanged a glace.

"I don't care what the evidence shows," Kurt snapped. "We both know there is absolutely no chance that Noah would ever hurt a woman, let alone kill her." He shook his head again. "Something is behind this. Where is he now?" He closed his eyes as though in pain. "My god, I don't even know where he's living. Is he still in Columbus?

"What's he doing in Chicago?" Kurt asked. "Oh, I see. Yes, I suppose that makes sense. All right, what's our next step?"

The others winced at the sound of screaming erupting from the phone.

"Santana!" Kurt shouted. "Calm down! You're not doing anyone, least of all Noah, any good. I need you to be calm and help me think this through. You're a fucking lawyer, so act like one!"

Jeremy's mouth fell open in shock at Kurt's use of invective.

Kurt stood and began prowling around the room like a caged tiger.

"What does the autopsy report show?" he demanded. He began shaking his head once more. "That's it? That's all they have? And they're actually going to _charge_ him?"

He exhaled slowly. "All right, Santana, this is what I need you to do. I want you to pack a bag. I'll charter a jet to get you from Philadelphia to O'Hare. Have you told your firm that I contracted you to oversee the Delacroix Trust?" He nodded. "Good. You'll tell them that you're working on something for me. That will beg them off.

"When you land, there will be a car waiting to take you to the Four Seasons. As soon as you check in, you hit the ground running."

He paused and rolled his eyes. "It doesn't matter that you're not licensed in Illinois. I know an excellent attorney in Chicago, and I'm sure she'll take the case. Now listen to me very closely: you leave the legalities to her. I want you focusing on Noah. You know how he is. You can predict his behavior, and you know he'll start acting like an idiot and make himself look even worse."

He nodded. "I have some ideas in mind. The next thing: what, if anything, does Quinn know about this?" He sighed and hung his head. "No, I'll tell her. If you call, she'll immediately go on the defensive and take everything out on you. That's just her default state when Noah gets into these situations. She always looks to take her anger out on someone else. The last thing any of us needs is the two of you sniping at each other."

He nodded again. "Okay, call me when you get there. We're going to get him through this, all right? I love you, Santana."

He hung up.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he hissed.

"What the hell happened?" demanded an alarmed Alaric.

Kurt heaved a tremendous sigh and rolled his neck. "A friend of mine, Noah Puckerman, recently of Chicago, has been arrested for first-degree murder." He met Alaric's eyes. "There is absolutely no way Noah would commit such an act, let alone against this particular victim."

"How do you know him?" Elena asked. "Did you mention him before?"

"From high school," Kurt said, "and probably not. Noah is...difficult, in more ways than one. We were...enemies, I suppose you could say...for a very long time. We didn't become friends until our senior year."

Jeremy tilted his head. "He used to bully you, didn't he?"

Kurt raised an impressed brow. "He did. In fact, he was the ringleader for much of my torment."

"And you're defending him?" Elena barked. "You're going to help him?"

Kurt looked at her. "You have to understand that my relationship with Noah is extremely complicated."

"Is it?" Alaric asked. "I'm betting he is, or was, in love with you."

Kurt stilled and opened his eyes very wide. "Why would you say that?" he asked far too casually.

Alaric scoffed. "Oh, come on. Some guy tortures you for years and you not only forgive him, but become his friend? You're willing to defend him against a murder charge without even knowing the whole story? Obviously there's more there than just a bridge built over troubled waters."

"You're good," Kurt said. "Yes, Noah was in love with me when we were in high school. He didn't want to be, he didn't wish to consider what it might mean about him, so he acted out."

"And you forgave him?" Elena demanded. "_Why?_"

"Because Noah tortured himself far more than he ever did me," Kurt said. "He never physically hurt me, and he actually intervened when others sought to do just that."

"He...protected you by making your life miserable?" Jeremy asked.

"Exactly."

"Because as long as he was bullying you, the other bullies considered you his and left you alone," Alaric said.

Kurt nodded. "Yes. After he joined the glee club, our relationship, while still contentious, thawed considerably, and Noah did more for me than most people will ever know. Now it's my turn to protect him."

"I suppose I can understand that, somewhat," Elena said slowly, "but we're talking about murder. Do you really believe in him that much?"

"As far as this goes, absolutely," Kurt said. "Like I said, it's complicated, and that doesn't begin to take in his relationships with my friends. He and Santana were once together, as were he and Rachel, as well as he and Quinn."

"Was he the father of her baby?" Jeremy asked.

Kurt flinched. "Yes. He was also Finn's best friend while Finn was with Quinn."

Elena's eyes bulged. "He sounds like a complete dick."

"Oh, he is," Kurt said, "but Noah hurts himself far more than he does anyone else. That's why, when I say he is simply not capable of murder, I know it for a fact. He's hotheaded and often doesn't think beyond the moment, but he's not a killer."

"Is he still in love with you?" Alaric asked.

"I don't know," Kurt replied, shrugging, "and it's irrelevant. Noah has made great strides in distancing himself from the boy he was, and he's succeeded. We became friends. He was Sam's best friend. Whatever he felt, or still feels for me, he wanted me to be happy. He knew Sam made me happy, and Noah was therefore one of our biggest supporters. He could've walked away, but he didn't, so I won't walk away from him now."

"Who is he accused of killing?" Elena asked.

Kurt closed his eyes. "Shelby Corcoran. She was the adoptive mother of Beth, Noah's daughter with Quinn. She was also Rachel's birth mother."

Elena had to sit down.

"This is almost incestuous," Alaric said.

Kurt snorted. "You don't know how right you are." He shook his head. "This will devastate Rachel. She and Shelby weren't close, but Rachel always carried a hope that they one day might be." He sighed. "But Shelby was never really interested in Rachel. After Rachel and Finn had Cosette, Shelby didn't even acknowledge she had a granddaughter."

"So you know this guy is innocent because why?" Jeremy asked. "Magic?"

"No. I know this because killing Shelby would leave Beth an orphan, and there's absolutely no way Noah would ever do that to his daughter."

Alaric nodded. That, at least, he could understand.

"Are you going to call Rachel?" Elena asked.

Kurt shook his head. "No. She can't hear it from me, because she'd want to know why Santana called me before her. Santana will handle that. I need to call Quinn."

Jeremy stared. "Rachel and Finn don't know, do they? They don't know you're a witch."

Kurt's eyes widened. "No! God, no. They couldn't handle it, particularly Finn. Both of them, despite how much they love me, see me as damaged, as something that needs looking after."

Alaric raised a brow. "Do they know you at all?"

"They've always seen what they want to see," Kurt answered, "and the rest of us have allowed them to do just that." He sighed. "They would make such easy targets. They're so overconfident that they would try to take control of a situation in which they're completely powerless. They couldn't even begin to understand what my life entails." He shook his head with finality. "No. I have to keep them, and their daughter, safe from all of this."

He looked up at all of them, tears falling from his eyes. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for something like this to happen. I didn't want you to see this part of me."

Elena blinked. "What in the hell are you talking about? The part that takes care of other people? The part who protects those who've once harmed you? If anything, the last five minutes have given me more insight into you than the past five hours."

Kurt smiled, sadly, at her.

"What can we do to help?" Jeremy asked.

Kurt looked around at them. "You really want to help me?" he whispered, disbelief plain in his voice.

Elena was horrified. Did he truly expect they wouldn't?

"Of course!" Jeremy exclaimed.

Kurt closed his eyes. "Thank you."

* * *

As Elena made a late supper, Alaric put on a new pot of coffee, and Jeremy assumed the role of makeshift assistant, Kurt began making some calls.

He quickly dialed a pre-programmed number, put his phone on speaker, and began scrolling through the file Santana had just emailed to his laptop.

"_Alicia Florrick_," a smooth voice answered.

Elena stopped what she was doing. Alicia Florrick? The woman who had dominated national news last summer after her politician husband had been caught with prostitutes? Kurt _knew _her?

* * *

Alicia had the phone grabbed tightly in her hand, furious that she had been so close to calling it a night and escaping her office. Still, the call had been received on her personal line, not relayed via the firm's switchboard, so there was a distinct possibility it was a client.

Considering the tight financial straits in which Lockhart/Gardner had found themselves, she would be stupid to turn away business, no matter how much it might impact her personal life.

"_Alicia, it's Kurt Hummel_."

"Kurt!" she said warmly. "It's so good to hear your voice. How are you?"

He forced a smile she would never see, but she could hear the obvious tension in his voice. "_Frankly, I've been better. I need your help_."

"Of course," she said. "What can I do for you?"

"_A friend of mine currently living in Chicago has just been arrested for first-degree murder. He needs representation_."

"I see," she said slowly, eyes the size of saucers.

Just then, Kalinda trotted by her office, and Alicia hurriedly waved her inside. They might be having their issues right now, but Kalinda and Kurt had been friends for years, and Alicia knew Kalinda would do everything in her power to help him.

Kalinda sauntered inside, brows raised.

"Kurt," Alicia said, "I'm going to put you on speakerphone. I need all the details you can give me."

"_Of course. Good evening, Kalinda._"

"Hello, Kurt," the woman said blandly, ignoring Alicia's look of shock. "What's happened?"

"_Noah Puckerman, a friend of mine from high school, has been arrested for the murder of Shelby Corcoran. He's currently being held at the Twenty-Fourth Precinct. Kalinda, I am positive he is innocent._"

"Understood," Kalinda replied, nodding. "Give us everything you have."

So he did. As he relayed the information, including Puck's vital statistics, his address and phone number, and what he knew of the situation, Alicia took notes, but continued sneaking glances at Kalinda, who had taken Kurt's protestation of innocence at face value. She hadn't even questioned him in the slightest, and Kalinda was the most suspicious person she had ever known.

Alicia didn't know Kurt well; they hadn't even met in person. The only reason she knew of him at all was because, last year, when she was defending a client against a murder charge, that client had faced a similar charge years before in Providence.

Kalinda had reached out to Kurt, who had been interning in the Office of the Chief Medical Examiner, and he had managed to unearth autopsy results that had previously been reported as irretrievably lost. He had come through for her, and her client had been rightfully exonerated.

Her relationship with Kurt had been built solely on phone calls over the course of several months, but they had formed a solid friendship. She found him intelligent, erudite, and compassionate, but also acerbic, sarcastic, and, on occasion, obnoxious.

In short, she adored him.

They had continued to speak long after the case was over and now considered themselves good friends, despite the lack of face-to-face interaction. Her relationship with him was entirely separate from his with Kalinda. In fact, Alicia had never determined just how they knew one another or the depth of their relationship. Kalinda had few friends she was willing to acknowledge as just that - _friends_ - and she was very protective of Kurt.

Alicia could understand that. When Kalinda had told her that Sam Evans had been killed, Alicia had been nearly inconsolable, which was odd, considering she had never met nor spoken to Sam. Still, the thought of what his death would do to Kurt had devastated her. She had tried to get to the funeral, but wasn't able to get out of court. Kurt had been very understanding, but Alicia had felt as though she had betrayed him.

So if he needed her help now, she was going to give it to him.

After Kurt summarized the information Santana had given him and expounded on Puck's past relationship with Shelby, Alicia knew this was not going to be easy. There would be a lot of press coverage, which would be great publicity for the firm, but was sure to poison the jury pool.

"_I'm sending my attorney, Santana Lopez, to assist you, Alicia_," Kurt said. "_She's en route now and will be staying at the Four Seasons._"

"I appreciate that, Kurt," Alicia said slowly, "but may I ask why? Do you doubt my ability?"

"_Absolutely not, but I do doubt Noah's ability to control both himself and his temper. I've known him since we were children, Alicia, and he is easily the most difficult person I've ever met. Santana is the only one who can corral him. Believe me, you will need her. She isn't licensed in Illinois, and I'm sure there's nothing that can be done about that..._"

"I might be able to push something through," Alicia murmured, dwelling on Kurt's warning. She knew him well enough to know he wouldn't have issued it had he not thought it necessary. The last thing she needed was for her new client to go shooting his mouth off.

"Kurt, hold on a moment, please." She placed him on hold and buzzed Cary. "Cary, would you please come to my office? I have a new case which I believe will require your assistance." She hung up and switched back to Kurt.

"Thank you, Kurt," she said. "I'm sorry for the interruption."

He dismissed it and finished explaining about Santana.

_"The only person more difficult than Noah is Santana, but she's an excellent attorney, Alicia. She graduated number one from Penn State, number two from Penn Law, and was an editor for Law Review. She's tempestuous, but smart as a whip. You can trust her, and I'll make sure she knows she can trust you._"

Alicia blinked, and then nodded when Cary entered her office.

"Kurt," she said, "Cary Agos has just entered the room. He's another associate and he and I often work on cases together. I'm going to fill him in and then send him down to the station to handle the preliminaries for Mr. Puckerman."

Kurt snorted. _"Then Mr. Agos better wear boxing gloves_."

Cary arched a brow.

"_I'm sure Noah has been screaming to all and sundry about his innocence and completely ignored his right to remain silent. I imagine you'll have a lot to suppress."_

Alicia rolled her eyes. "Terrific. Here's Kalinda."

Kalinda snatched up the phone and began whispering into it, as Alicia explained the situation to Cary, who digested all of it with remarkable aplomb.

"Are you sure you want me in on this?" he asked.

Alicia nodded. "I'm going to need your help. Kurt is good friends with Kalinda, so I feel a certain duty to try this case to the best of my ability. You're one of the best attorneys I know, and our personal issues, whatever those might be, have no bearing here."

He nodded. "Thank you, Alicia." He paused. "It's going to be a big case, you know."

She smiled grimly. "I know."

"Have you discussed fees?"

Alicia startled, but Kalinda entered the conversation.

"That won't be a problem." She reiterated the concern to Kurt and placed him back on speakerphone.

"_Alicia, Mr. Agos, between Santana and myself, we're worth over one hundred million dollars. I want the best defense possible, no matter the cost_."

Alicia and Cary stared at the phone.

"_I do have one stipulation, however,_" he continued, "_and that's that Noah not be told of my involvement in his case. He would never accept my help. If he questions anything, tell him Santana is footing the bill. She'll take care of the rest._"

"Of course, Kurt," Kalinda said, eying her two colleagues.

"_I'm in possession of the preliminary autopsy report,_" he added, "_and I am severely underwhelmed. I'll be contacting a forensic pathologist I trust to conduct a second postmortem. She's meticulous. If there's anything to uncover, she'll find it._"

Alicia nodded. "Excellent." She paused. "Kurt, if I may ask, what is it you want out of all of this?"

"_My primary concern is Noah's exoneration_," he said flatly. "_My secondary concern is what will happen to Shelby's daughter, Beth. As I explained, Beth is the biological child of Noah and my friend Quinn. I'm going to contact her now to inform her of the situation and see how she wants to proceed. I'll get back to you as quickly as possible._"

"Understood," Alicia said, nodding to Cary, who quickly departed. "I presume your cell hasn't changed, Kurt, but is the other contact information I have for you current? Are you still in Providence?"

* * *

Kurt hesitated.

"No," he said quietly. "I've recently moved to Virginia."

"_Oh?_" Alicia asked. "_Any particular reason?_"

Kurt looked at Elena and then Jeremy. The siblings exchanged a long look, and it was apparent to Elena what Jeremy's decision would be. At last, she nodded. She wouldn't fight him on this. She wanted Kurt, too. She just hoped Alaric would understand.

Jeremy laid his hand over Kurt's and nodded.

Kurt blinked back tears. "I've recently assumed guardianship over my minor cousins."

The answering silence was pregnant.

_"I see,_" Alicia said. "_I look forward to speaking with you about this matter at a more convenient time._"

"I'd like that very much, Alicia," Kurt replied, smiling softly.

"_Where in Virginia?_" Kalinda asked.

"A town called Mystic Falls."

"_Kurt, take me off speakerphone right now_," Kalinda said with steel in her voice.

He swallowed heavily and did just that, wide eyes locking with those of Alaric.

"I'm here," he whispered.

Kalinda began hissing into the phone, and it was obvious to him she had likewise taken him off speaker, though he doubted Kalinda had managed to throw Alicia out of her own office.

"Yes, I know," he said. "Yes, I'm aware." He rolled his eyes and sighed in frustration. "Kalinda, you're not telling me any new information. I'm well aware of what goes on in Mystic Falls, and I'm here precisely for that reason."

His eyes darkened. "Don't make the mistake of underestimating me, Kalinda. I care for you greatly and I value our friendship, but do not treat me as a child."

From the way Kurt's face smoothed, it was apparent to the others the woman on the telephone had taken his scolding to heart.

"Of course I'll be careful." He nodded. "Yes, I'll speak with you later. Goodbye, Kalinda."

He exhaled and placed his phone back on the table.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked all three of them as he stared down at the table. "I won't take offense if you change your minds."

"I won't," Jeremy said flatly.

"I want you with us," Elena said.

"I need your help," Alaric whispered. "I can't do this by myself. Not anymore. There's too much at stake."

Kurt nodded, too moved to speak.


	8. Rituals

"What's next?" Elena asked, as she served help four helpings of a simple stew she had thrown together.

Kurt was quiet as he took a spoonful and hummed in appreciation. "This is fantastic," he said to her, smiling when a light blush spread across her cheeks. He laid down his spoon and sighed gently. "What's next is going to be very difficult."

She nodded sympathetically. "You need to call Quinn?"

He nodded. "I can't imagine what this will do to her. Her pregnancy was a very confusing time in her life. What most people don't know is that she truly wanted to keep Beth. As cold as Quinn may appear to others, she loved her baby and did the best she could by that baby. She never wanted to give Beth up, but she knew it was her daughter's best option."

"And was it?" Alaric asked.

Kurt paused and considered the question. "Honestly? It was the best decision for Quinn. She was in no way mentally, emotionally, or financially equipped to raise a child. That said, putting Beth up for adoption devastated her. I don't think she ever really got over it." He shrugged a shoulder. "Still, it was probably for the best. I believe Noah will make a good father when he's ready, but that time was not then, nor is it now."

"And Shelby?"

Kurt bit his lip and then slowly exhaled. "Shelby Corcoran was...not the type of person I would allow to raise a child of mine, but it wasn't my decision. I will say that Shelby was ready to be a mother and had the financial reasons to properly care for a child. My issues with her relate to her character."

"You said she was Rachel's mom?" Jeremy asked.

"Yes," Kurt replied, "but the more accurate description is that she was Rachel's birth mother. Shelby was the surrogate for Leroy and Hiram, Rachel's fathers." He paused. "Shelby was a very driven woman who knew what she wanted and went after it. She never expressed any interest in Rachel until our sophomore year. We were in direct competition with the glee club Shelby oversaw, and she tried to use her connection with Rachel to sabotage us."

He shook his head. "It was very sloppy. Shelby was conniving, but not nearly as intelligent as she would've liked to have believed." He frowned. "That said, she slept with our glee club instructor and later with Noah, so she certainly left her mark on us."

Alaric shook his head. "Incestuous."

Kurt agreed. "Very much so. Of course, when you're in a group of a relatively small size and you interact with almost no one else, things like this happen. A year after Quinn surrendered Beth to Shelby, she tried to get her back. The entire affair was embarrassing to all parties involved, and was rather sordid. Quinn finally accepted that it was best to let Beth go. Shelby, for all her faults, was a good mother."

"Do you think Quinn will want her daughter back?" Elena asked, sipping a glass of water.

"Therein lies the problem," Kurt said. "I'm sure Quinn _will_ want to take custody, but I don't think it's a good idea right now. It took a lot for her to move on, and she's finally happy. She's finished grad school and has started what is sure to be a prominent career." He sighed. "But I know it's not my decision to make."

"You used to be really bossy, didn't you?" Jeremy asked wisely.

Kurt arched a brow. "I still am, as you'll come to find out. In fact, let's begin right now. Start taking notes."

Jeremy grimaced, but grabbed a pen.

* * *

"Dr. Hunt."

"_Dr. Hunt, this is Kurt Hummel. I'm not sure if you remember me..._"

Megan Hunt pulled the phone from her ear, looked at it, and snorted. "Yeah, right. I've completely forgotten the brilliant pathology student who looks fifteen years old and shut down a roomful of seasoned professionals with a paper that put all of them to shame. You were the only thing tolerable at that miserable conference in Albany."

"_Well, it's apparent you've become even more demure in the year since we met_," Kurt drawled.

Megan chortled. "You know, when I gave you my number, I expected you to use it before now. What are you up to, and why the hell aren't you working for me?"

At his noticeable pause, she began to wonder if she should regret asking.

"_Things have been...difficult_."

"So start talking."

Briefly, as though he was discussing the weather, he related to her the death of his fiancé, his graduation from Brown, and how he had assumed guardianship over some distant relatives who had been left orphaned.

She shook her head and blew out a breath. "You've got a pair, kid."

In truth, what he had was her respect, which was something she didn't easily grant.

"_Dr. Hunt, I'm calling because I wish to hire you_."

Megan blinked. "I have a job."

"_I'm aware. This would be...extracurricular. I have a friend in Chicago who's about to be charged with a murder of which I'm sure he's innocent. I want you to conduct a second autopsy_."

She frowned. "What's wrong with the first one?"

"_May I email you the file?_"

"Yeah, send it through."

A few seconds later, her phone chimed with a new email. She opened it, scrolled through it, and frowned more deeply.

"Where's the rest of it?" she demanded.

"_Exactly. I may not be a forensic pathologist, but I've reviewed enough reports to know this is some of the sloppiest and most incomplete work I've ever come across_."

"That's putting it mildly."

"_Hence my call._"

"And you will be a forensic pathologist one day, if I have any say in the matter. Which I do."

He ignored her. "_I'll give you a base salary of forty thousand dollars, as well as travel and lodging expenses. I can arrange a lab for you at Northwestern. You'll have full access to their facilities and will be able to run any test you consider necessary_."

Megan arched a brow. That was a pretty sweet deal, one which she was reluctant to turn down.

"I presume I'll have to testify."

"_Most likely, given what we're both sure you'll find. The attorney I've procured is Alicia Florrick_."

Megan was surprised and impressed. Florrick had been making a strong name for herself in Midwestern law. Megan had initially dismissed the woman as yet another drone unable to posit the dissolution of her marriage and had thus clung to it for lack of something better to do. Still, Florrick had resumed a law career while standing by her husband and raising her children.

Megan might not have agreed with such a decision, but she respected it.

She thought about the report again and realized that if a second postmortem wasn't done, it was entirely possible an innocent person would be sent to prison. She may have been a bitch, but she wasn't an asshole.

"I'll need to speak with my boss and make arrangements for my daughter, but, as of right now, I'll agree to your proposal. If something comes up, I'll get you a short list of acceptable replacements."

"_Thank you, Dr. Hunt_," Kurt exhaled.

"Call me Megan, kid, and for what you're paying me, thanks aren't necessary."

* * *

"Megan Hunt," Elena said after Kurt hung up. "I've heard of her. She's from Philadelphia, right? They had that biological terror threat a few months ago. Wasn't she at the center of it?"

Kurt nodded. "Dr. Hunt is much more than a forensic pathologist," he said. "She's trained as a neurosurgeon, but she has one of the keenest investigative minds in the business. She's a combination physician, cop, and lawyer. She's very good."

"And you know her?" Jeremy asked.

Kurt shrugged. "We're in closely-related fields. We met at a conference last year and, well, let's say she decided she was going to mentor me, albeit via a long-distance relationship. My permission wasn't necessary."

"And Alicia Florrick?" Alaric pressed. "She's fairly well-known, too."

Kurt nodded. "She had a case last year that was dependent on evidence located in Providence but was presumably lost. I was able to reconstruct it, and her client was exonerated."

"You're surrounded by a lot of powerful women," Jeremy noted.

"I know. I'm such a good gay."

Elena snickered.

Alaric, however, was sober. "Are you going to call Quinn?"

Kurt dropped his eyes and nodded. "Yes, but later, and in private. I would, however, like to discuss some things with all of you."

"We're not changing our minds," said a staunch Jeremy, looking mutinously at Elena, who held up her hands in surrender.

"I'm not," she said softly.

"You have no idea how happy that makes me," Kurt said. "As I said to Elizabeth before the funeral, I need you as much as I'd hope you need me."

"Why do you need us?" asked a mystified Elena. "I mean, sure, I have no problem admitting we need you, especially your magic, given our lives are what they are, but I don't see what we're bringing to the table. You're young, you have money and power. You could do anything, but instead you've been saddled with two teenagers."

Jeremy, too, looked at Kurt with apprehension.

"But that's not how I see it," Kurt said. "I truly consider Finn to be my brother and his daughter my niece, but I have no other family." His eyes narrowed. "And don't believe for a moment that statement implies that you're in any way a last resort. That couldn't be further from the truth."

Elena blushed and Jeremy looked away.

"What I'm trying to say," he continued, "is that you're important to me because you're my family. I'm sure that once we get to know each other, you'll be important to me for any number of reasons." He stared at them. "You have no idea how lucky you are to have each other, of how lucky you are to have _always_ had each other."

His eyes turned distant. "I was alone for so much of my life. I was separated from my peers because of my powers, because I lost myself in books rather than lose myself in my own mind. I had no friends until I was fifteen years old." He raised an eyebrow. "Think about that for a moment."

They did, and it hurt them. They hurt for him.

He sighed. "And then Sam died." He shook his head. "As ridiculous as this is going to sound, especially given our rather small age difference, you two are the closest I most likely will ever come to having my own children."

Elena gaped as Jeremy's eyes bulged.

"I don't consider you my children, of course," Kurt hurriedly added, "but, as I said, you're probably the closest thing."

"Don't you want children of your own?" asked a surprised Elena.

Kurt was silent for several long moments. "Honestly, I don't know. Sam and I discussed it. He desperately wanted children, sooner rather than later, and I agreed because I knew it would make him happy."

He paused. "The very idea terrifies me. I'm not...I don't have a lot of patience. I didn't like children when I was a child. I don't believe I'd be a good parent. I would have tried, for Sam's sake, but both of us knew he would've had to take the lead in raising any children we might have had."

He exhaled. "That's not to say I wouldn't have done my very best, but I don't know how well I would have succeeded."

"No parent does," Alaric said, "but I know what you mean." A look of fondness passed over his face as he glanced at Elena and Jeremy.

Kurt nodded. "I suspected as much, which is why I'm so grateful you're going to be with me on this." He bit his lip. "You are, right?"

Alaric almost smirked at the vulnerability which had crept into Kurt's voice. As Elena had noted, Kurt was young, intelligent, and powerful, with a great deal of money. He had presumably faced things far more dangerous than two teenagers, yet the prospect of having to look after Jeremy and Elena appeared to make him very anxious.

He blinked. Of course, the same was true of him, at least as far as Elena and Jeremy were concerned. He'd had every intention of caring for them, but he would have been lying had he said he wasn't scared.

"How would it work?" he asked.

Kurt shot him a brilliant smile and Alaric had to struggle not to fidget, his stomach fluttering in a most unwelcome way.

Oh, no.

Hell no!

He forced _that_ particular feeling as far away as possible, burying it under several layers of longstanding and numerous denials. _That _could absolutely _never_ happen.

First, he was still in love with Jenna. Second, Kurt was Jenna's _cousin_. Third, Kurt, frankly, scared him. Fourth, something like that could permanently damage their relationships with Elena and Jeremy if things didn't work out.

Fifth, there was simply no time for such nonsense. Sixth, he could easily imagine how Damon would react to such a situation, were it ever to occur.

For some reason unbeknownst to Alaric, Damon had a proprietary interest in him. He didn't understand it, and was fairly certain he didn't _want_ to understand it. Regardless, Damon was the closest thing to a friend Alaric had had in a number of years. He didn't want to lose that. He definitely didn't want Damon going after Kurt, though he wasn't sure who would triumph in such a situation.

And was Kurt reading his mind right now?

One look at the other man answered the question.

A hurt and bewildered Kurt was staring at him, obviously waiting for an answer to a question already asked and perceived to have been ignored. That opinion was firmly upheld when Alaric turned to Jeremy and Elena, both of whom were scowling at him.

"Uh," he said intelligently. He blinked and shook his head to clear it. "Sorry, I got lost in thought for a moment. Did you say something, Kurt?"

Kurt appeared relieved that Alaric didn't have some issue with him. He cleared his throat delicately, now embarrassed. "I asked if you were sure you would be comfortable sharing custody with me."

Elena and Jeremy's collective scowl turned thunderous.

"Why wouldn't I be?" asked a confused Alaric. He blinked. "Oh, because you're gay?" he blurted, before wincing. "Kurt," he said more gently, "I already told you I have no problems with gay people." He cocked his head. "Are you still worried what people will say?"

Kurt reluctantly nodded. "I've had some...bad experiences. Guys who I thought were friends until being friends with me caused their, er, manliness to be called into question." He blushed.

Alaric knew it was best to nip this in the bud. "Like I said, anyone who has a problem with us caring for the kids is a dick, and I don't have time for them," he said firmly. "I could care less what's said behind my back by people too chickenshit to say it to my face."

"What if they did say it to your face?" Kurt asked.

Alaric shrugged. "I'd give them points for having balls, and then punch them in the face. Who cares what they think? They don't pay my bills."

He was depressed by the look of plain disbelief on Kurt's face.

Kurt cleared his throat again but kept his eyes averted. "How would you like to go about doing this? If you want to remain in the house, I can get lodgings of my own close by."

"Why can't you stay here?" Jeremy demanded.

Alaric and Elena were somewhat concerned that Jeremy had latched on so quickly to Kurt. It was obvious he didn't want to be separated from his cousin, but given the recent losses, it was understandable.

Kurt said nothing and continued pointedly looking at anything other than Alaric.

Alaric shook his head in consternation. He really didn't understand all Kurt must have been put through, but if he could find the people who had treated the man so horribly, he'd ensure they all died in a fire.

"Kurt," he said forcefully, "you being gay does not bother me. It does not threaten me. I don't...I don't fear for my virtue with you in the room. I have no problem sharing the house with you, and it would certainly be a lot easier to co-parent Elena and Jeremy with you here."

He sighed. "Look, I'm sorry for whatever's been done to you, I really am, and I'm sure that it was undeserved, but you're starting to piss me off. Don't judge me because of your experiences with other people, especially people I don't even know."

Kurt looked appropriately chagrined and bobbed his head in agreement. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sure I'm being overly cautious, bordering on ridiculous, but this situation...I want it to work. I don't want you to be uncomfortable around me, because that will make Elena and Jeremy uncomfortable. I don't want them ever to feel that they have to take sides."

Elena stared hard at him. "That happened with you and Finn."

Kurt exhaled. "Yes. It was a very painful situation for all involved." He paused. "Finn was very homophobic, and perhaps he had cause, at least with me, given the absurd crush I once had on him. He tried to play me against my father, and it often worked because Dad was so desperate for our new family to run smoothly.

"Carole, my stepmother, knew what Finn was doing, and I know she scolded and punished him for it, but behind closed doors. She often took his side in family arguments because Finn is her child, and I understood that. Still, she and I are not close, and part of that is because of those early months. I know she regrets it and so do I. I don't want that to happen again."

Alaric shook his head. "I can't believe you and this guy are even friends now."

Kurt shrugged a shoulder. "Finn and I both grew up. We had to after Dad died. When it comes right down to it, I know without a doubt that Finn would kill anyone or anything that hurt me, and I would do the same for him."

Jeremy and Elena could certainly understand that. They exchanged a glance and nodded.

"Are you sure you want me to stay here?" Kurt asked nervously, biting his lip. "I really have no problem getting a place of my own."

"That's stupid," Jeremy said. "You're our family. Besides, you said that the state or whatever would probably be monitoring us, at least in the beginning. It only makes sense for you to stay here."

Kurt was finding the point harder to argue. "Is there even enough room?"

Elena nodded. "Sure. There are four bedrooms. The master bedroom has its own bathroom. There's also the guest bathroom. Jeremy and I have a bathroom connecting our bedrooms."

Kurt raised a brow. "That must be fun. I remember sharing a bathroom with Finn. He was a slob."

Elena laughed. "Jeremy always remembers to put the lid down. He's well trained."

Jeremy shot her a look of annoyance.

Alaric fidgeted. "I've been staying in the guest room. If you don't mind, I'd prefer to stay there."

"Had Jenna been living in the master?" Kurt quietly asked.

Alaric nodded tightly.

"If you're sure, I have no problem with staying there," Kurt said, "but if Jeremy or Elena wants to take the master, I can switch with them."

Jeremy shuddered and shook his head. "That's my parents' room."

Elena looked equally ill. "I can't."

"I understand," Kurt said softly. He waited a minute. "I'm sorry to bring this up, but have you given any thought to what you'd like to do with Jenna's things?"

The other three were silent for a very long time.

"We should probably donate her clothes," Alaric whispered. "She would have wanted that."

"Elena should have her jewelry," Jeremy added.

"I don't want it," she immediately protested.

"You might, one day," Kurt said. "If not for yourself, then for your own daughter."

She shook her head. "No daughters. The Petrova line ends with me."

Kurt frowned. "It's way too early to make such a declaration. We can store it for now, if you'd prefer. Perhaps in a safety deposit box."

Elena merely nodded, not wishing to discuss it further.

"We can give her books to the library," Alaric said. "They're always looking for donations."

Elena and Jeremy nodded, and then an awkward silence fell.

"What else is going to change?" Jeremy finally asked.

"Very little, I would think," Kurt said slowly. "Perhaps we should talk about what we all expect from each other?"

They nodded, but remained silent.

"All right," Kurt said slowly. "First, I guess I should make it clear that I'm not here to manage you. I'm not here to make demands on you. The fact of the matter is that you're almost adults, and I intend to treat you as such, within reason."

"What do you mean?" Elena asked.

"I'm not going to dictate to you," Kurt said. "However, I do expect that we be courteous with one another." He paused. "For example, I'm not going to enforce any curfews. You're responsible enough to know how much sleep you need. If you're out late on a school night, I still expect you to go to school the next day, no matter how tired you are."

They nodded.

"However, given what we know of this town, I want to be able to get a hold of you at all times. That means you keep your cell phones _on_ at all times. That means you always take calls from both me and Alaric, no matter what you're doing."

"Absolutely," Alaric said staunchly. "We need to be able to find you if there's an emergency."

Elena and Jeremy looked at each other and shrugged. That was certainly reasonable. They nodded.

"Okay," Kurt said, nodding. "Next, in terms of courtesy, is agreeing upon whom we allow access to the house. Personally, I'm not in favor of allowing vampires to come inside."

Elena winced. "That's going to be a problem."

"Damon and Stefan already have invites," Alaric explained. "As do Caroline and, unfortunately, some Originals."

Kurt sighed and shook his head. "That's the trouble with these vampires. They appear human. If you don't know what to look for, they can fool you."

"And there's nothing we can do about it," Jeremy spat.

Kurt arched a brow. "On the contrary, it's a simple spell to rescind those invitations. In fact, it's probably best if I perform a blanket revocation."

"You can do that?" Elena trilled.

He nodded.

"Do it," Jeremy said. "Get rid of all of them. Damon's already killed me once, and Alaric a few times. That sucked."

The temperature of the room suddenly plummeted and a wind began batting Kurt's hair, sending it flying.

"Excuse me?" he seethed.

Their eyes widened.

"Damon _killed_ you?" he repeated, looking first at Jeremy, and then at Alaric.

They nodded, too shocked to speak.

"The resurrection rings," Kurt murmured as the wind died down. "Let me see them," he demanded.

Hesitantly, Jeremy and Alaric held out their hands and Kurt studied their rings closely.

"When were these last cleansed?"

They blinked.

"We have to clean them?" Jeremy asked.

Alaric appeared equally confused.

Kurt's head reared back. "Do you know nothing about these rings?"

Embarrassed, they held their silence.

Kurt blew out a breath and shook his head. "It doesn't matter much at this point. I'm too grateful that they've kept you alive."

Alaric and Jeremy smiled at him.

"The problem with enchantments such as these," Kurt continued, "is that they have consequences. Remember earlier when I explained that spells always have a countermeasure?"

They nodded.

"Every time you die and are resurrected by the rings, a feedback loop is triggered. In essence, the memories of those deaths are stored within the rings, as are those of whomever wore them before you. If they are not cleansed on a regular basis, the enchantments will...mutate, for lack of a better term."

"And what happens then?" asked a worried Jeremy.

"They change you," Kurt said frankly, "and on a fundamental level. I can't offer hypotheses, because there's no guarantee you would experience the same effects. What's important is that we cleanse them immediately."

"Do it," Alaric said quickly.

In truth, he had noticed lately that he hadn't been quite himself. In the last few months, he had been standoffish with Jenna, and that now haunted him. He was drinking more and sleeping less, and when he did sleep, he was haunted by horrific nightmares he could not remember upon waking.

He hadn't known what was happening to him, but Kurt's explanation about the rings made sense. If his ring was causing these personality shifts, he wanted it stopped.

Kurt nodded. With a flick of his finger, he opened the front door to the house and summoned his bag from the car. When it landed in his hand, the door shut and a golden glow erupted from it, spreading out on both sides and encompassing the entire first floor, before making its way up to the second.

"What is that?" Elena whispered.

"A ward," Kurt said. "It will alert me if we have any unwelcome visitors." He looked at them. "First, I'll cleanse the rings; then, I'll do a mass revocation on all invitations issued for the house."

He looked at Elena, and then at Alaric. His face was pinched, but there was no judgment. "Damon is your business. If you want to invite him into the house, I will agree, but _only_ if Jeremy does, as well. If he doesn't, then we have a problem."

Jeremy blushed faintly at Kurt's support. "If he tries anything, you can stop him, right?"

Kurt paused to consider the question. "If I'm home, yes. I'll ward the house, but there's no guarantee those wards will hold. If I'm not here, you can't count on them being able to stop him if he truly wants to hurt you."

Jeremy was conflicted. On the one hand, he had always played off how much Damon scared him; on the other, he now didn't have to do that. Kurt would side with him about not allowing Damon into the house, but that might cause conflict with Alaric, who considered Damon a friend, and Elena, who...well, who the hell knew what Elena really thought of Damon.

"I'm fine with not inviting him," Alaric said, shrugging. "I'm tired of him walking in and sauntering about like he owns the place. He comes in whenever he wants, even when we're not home, and who knows what he does while he's waiting for us to return."

Elena bit her lip, but eventually nodded her agreement. She knew Damon had feelings for her, and while part of her appreciated those feelings, the other part of her was severely creeped out by him. He was always following her, and seemed to take great delight in scaring her with his surprise appearances. How many times had she walked out of the bathroom to find him lounging on her bed? Damon acted as though he had certain rights where she was concerned, and she didn't like that at all.

Kurt nodded in concert. "We will discuss Stefan when he returns. I want to meet him before he's issued an invitation. I'm very concerned that he's been traveling with Klaus and what that might have done to him."

He paused, his brow furrowed. "In fact, now that I think about it, I have to wonder how much of Jenna's death and Elena's attempted murder were contrived solely for Klaus to get his hands on Stefan."

Alaric's eyes widened with rage as his fists clenched at his sides. "Do you really think that's possible?" he hissed.

Kurt gave a diffident shrug. "I don't know, and that's what worries me. From everything you've told me, Klaus was convinced Elena's death was required to break the curse. Then, at the last possible moment, he lets her live as long as Stefan agrees to leave town with him? The question I have is _why_?"

"They must know each other," Jeremy said. "More than we thought they did, I mean."

Alaric nodded, wincing at the look of betrayal on Elena's face.

"Or he needs Stefan for something," Kurt surmised. "Something other than the curse."

"So, it's entirely possible Klaus has more than one agenda," Elena snapped, before sighing and throwing up her hands. "Why am I even surprised?"

"Because they're vampires," Kurt said. "You must always remember that, Elena. They look human, they act human, they might even have human emotions; but, at the end of the day, they're vampires. They're not human. You cannot ascribe to them a human morality. They're not truly immortal, but they're close. Existing for centuries is simply not a normal state of affairs, at least as far as we're concerned.

"No matter how much Stefan loves you, and he probably does, you have to keep in mind what he is. I'm sure he doesn't allow himself to forget that you're human."

She nodded reluctantly.

"I'm not saying you shouldn't love him," Kurt continued. "I wouldn't force you to break things off with him, no matter how much I might come to want to do just that, but you cannot allow yourself to be blinded by your love for him."

She nodded again, this time more firmly. She knew he was right, and she knew also that she was guilty of doing just that, many times. As much as she missed him, perhaps it was good that he was gone. It was apparent she needed some perspective.

He nodded in kind. "Now, the rings." He hesitated, deep in thought. "I think perhaps it would be good if I modified the enchantments."

"How so?" Alaric asked.

"I want to make it so that only you and those of your bloodline, as well as the Gilberts, can use them."

Alaric blinked and thought about that offer. Truly, he couldn't see a downside.

"Will that help with the feedback loops?" Jeremy asked.

Kurt nodded. "Conceivably, yes. Once I cleanse them and they are free of the memories of their previous owners, they will only recognize Saltzmans and Gilberts. That will dampen the effects for future generations. Also, I'm going to show Bonnie how to do the cleansing ritual. She can pass it down to future Bennett witches."

"Can you create other rings?" Elena asked.

"I could," Kurt said slowly. "Might I ask whom you have in mind?"

She looked at Jeremy and then quickly looked away. "Matt and Bonnie. And Tyler."

Jeremy scowled at the mention of Lockwood. He had no problem with Matt. In fact, it was probably a good idea, given how much Matt had been impacted by all of the supernatural events lately, and Bonnie was awesome.

"I'll think about it," Kurt said. "This magic shouldn't be used lightly. There are consequences. There always are when you're pitting yourself against Fate."

"Against _Fate_?" Alaric repeated.

Kurt shrugged. "I'm all for protecting you, and Elena and Jeremy, but you have to keep in mind that these rings violate physical laws. That's unnatural, and there's a price to pay for that, for me and for whomever I would create the rings. I'm not going to do it for just anybody.

"Death isn't something to be manipulated. You don't snub your nose at it. As much as free will is a construct of humanity, so too is Fate. People are meant to die at certain times. In the end, if you're truly meant to die, an enchanted ring isn't going to save you. Being a vampire or a wtich isn't going to save you. Death will have its way.

"Jenna couldn't be saved. I couldn't save Sam. Miranda and Grayson and died, as did my parents. It can't be avoided forever."

His words, as stark and sober as they were, were nevertheless true, they realized.

"Let's begin."

* * *

"This is probably going to hurt," Kurt said sadly to Alaric and Jeremy. "I'm sorry for that, but it can't be helped. You're going to have to wear the rings as I cleanse them, and I have no way of predicting how severe the backlash will be."

"But you think there will be a backlash?" asked a nervous Jeremy.

"These rings are old. They've changed hands countless times. I have no idea as to the last time they were cleansed, if they even were."

Jeremy startled both of them by throwing his arms around Kurt and holding onto his cousin for dear life. "I trust you," he whispered.

Kurt carefully patted Jeremy's back and murmured his thanks.

Jeremy released him and looked embarrassed by his outburst. He didn't know what was wrong with him, why he was so emotional today. He knew it was more than just Jenna's death, as horrible as that was. Something about Kurt just made him feel safe and protected, and he wanted to hold that feeling tightly to him, at least for right now.

"What do we have to do?" Elena asked.

Kurt paused. "Actually, Elena, I'm not sure what, if any, role you might have in the ritual. As a doppelganger, you're inherently supernatural, but there's not a lot of information about how magic interacts with them." Finally, he shrugged. "I can't see how you could be a hindrance to the proceedings. If nothing else, having you as moral support will help both Jeremy and Alaric."

So, basically, she probably couldn't do anything, but at least Kurt had couched it in pleasant terms. He obviously believed that moral support was important, and who was she to disagree? It was the least she could do for her boys.

She smiled. Her boys.

Huh. When had that happened?

And, now, she had one more.

She looked at Kurt fondly. She was glad he was with them. She truly was.

They all watched, fascinated, as Kurt rummaged through his bag for supplies. First, he withdrew several used pillar candles, all white, and then proceeded to float them around into positions of which only he understood. A flick of his finger, and they were all lighted.

Next, he poured a large amount of Kosher salt into his hand and then threw it up in the air. It dispersed, and then fell into a perfect circle around them.

Finally, he pulled out a massive tome with a leather binding that appeared beaten and weathered. A symbol was carved onto the front, but they didn't know what it meant and they dared not ask.

"This is my Book of Shadows," he explained. "My spellbook. I assume Bonnie has something similar."

"Nothing like that," Elena whispered, agog at the sight. "Hers isn't nearly as thick or as, as...dramatic."

Kurt just shrugged and began flipping through the pages telekinetically.

He stopped at a page and frowned, chewing on his lower lip.

"What is it?" Alaric prompted.

Kurt hesitated, but finally decided to go for it. "This is another ritual. I honestly hadn't thought of it before now, but I'm wondering if it might not be a good idea."

"What does it do?" Elena asked.

"It would make us a family. Magically."

The other three exchanged a glance.

"How?" Jeremy asked.

"You and I have a biological connection, Jeremy, through your mother. You and Elena have one through the Gilberts. I have a familial connection with Elena because we've always recognized each other as family."

"I guess that leaves me the odd man out," Alaric joked, though he sounded wistful.

Kurt nodded. "Which is what this ritual would correct."

Alaric's eyes widened.

"You have a connection with Elena, Alaric, because you were married to Isobel. On some level, you already see Elena as your daughter. You see Jeremy as a relative because of your relationship with Jenna. Such connections don't necessarily have to be solely biological. You can absolutely choose your family."

"I have."

Kurt smiled, but it quickly faded. "But do you want to include me?"

"Yes."

Kurt swallowed heavily and looked away. "You don't know me," he whispered.

"I know what I need to know," Alaric insisted. "You love these kids. You would die for them?"

"Without hesitation."

"Then that's all that matters. That's all that matters to me."

Elena and Jeremy watched them, feeling like intruders, even though they were the topic of discussion.

"But do you trust me?" Kurt asked him.

"Yes," Alaric immediately replied.

Kurt shook his head. "You need to think about this, _really_ think about this, about what it would mean. You would be tied to me forever through magic."

"Is there a downside?" Alaric asked.

"I've read your mind," Kurt said evasively. "I know who you are."

Alaric shrugged. "Well, yeah, I figured that you had. I mean, once you admitted you were telepathic, I just assumed you'd read me, otherwise you never would have agreed to share custody. That's why I didn't understand why you were so worried about gossip." He blinked. "Couldn't you tell that I didn't care?"

"It's one thing to believe that of yourself; it's something else entirely when you're confronted with the reality," Kurt said. "If we do this, you and I will be connected. I've refrained from reading anything but surface thoughts because I respect your privacy."

He shook his head. "I don't know if the ritual will allow me that control. It's very possible that you would be unable to hide anything from me."

Alaric considered that as Kurt continued.

"Given my already existing connections with Elena and Jeremy, I will know if they're in trouble. If we do the ritual, so will you. You will have a magical connection with them. It won't be that strong, but it will be enough to alert you if something is wrong with any one of us."

"Good."

Kurt stared. "This is very serious."

"So am I. Look, maybe you need to read me again, because you seem to be missing some key points. I'm in this now because I choose to be. I want to be with these kids. It has nothing to do with Jenna or Isobel or any vampire. I love them. If I can get any kind of supernatural assist with keeping them safe, then I want it."

Kurt continued to stare, but at last sighed. He turned to Jeremy and Elena, both of whom nodded.

"All right," he said softly. He directed them as to where to stand as the Book was held aloft before him. "This is going to take a lot out of me. I won't be hurt, but I will be very tired. After this, I will cleanse the rings and perform the revocation, then return to the hotel."

"You're not going to stay here?" Jeremy whined.

Kurt shook his head. "We all need to allow ourselves to acclimate to this situation. The three of you have been living together for a few weeks now and know each other's habits. I think it would be too much for me to move in immediately. Let's wait a week and spend some time together, while allowing all of us a little space."

"If that's what you want," Alaric said, his tone somewhat annoyed. He immediately blanked his face when he realized he was bothered that Kurt wouldn't be moving in that night.

Kurt gave them a gentle smile. "I want all of you to talk about this, especially me, with each other. I won't be offended. It's a lot to take in. Jeremy, Elena, talk to your friends. It's all right to tell Bonnie and Caroline that I'm a witch, but I ask that you instruct Caroline not to tell Elizabeth. I want to do that myself."

They nodded.

Kurt's eyes turned blank, and then he dropped his head, appearing to have fallen asleep. A moment later, his eyes opened and slow smirk spread across his face.

"Well, well."

Alaric arched a brow. "What was that?"

Kurt's smirk grew. "Astral projection. It would appear I was correct. Damon did indeed trip the ward I set up at my hotel room. He's waiting for me there."

The other three looked furious.

"No," Kurt said, shaking his head and holding up a hand. "This is good. This is exactly what I want. I knew he would force a confrontation, and sooner rather than later. I intend to put him on notice immediately."

Alaric smirked, wishing he could see it. He was positive tickets could be sold, and he definitely would have bought one.

"Are you going to hurt him?" Elena asked hesitantly.

"Of course not," Kurt said, "unless he tries to hurt me." He shrugged. "If he does, I won't permanently injure him. Just enough to get my point across. I have the feeling he's rather hard-headed."

Jeremy snorted.

Kurt's eyes darkened. "However, I will be exacting some vengeance for his actions against Jeremy and Alaric, and nothing you could say would sway me. I don't allow threats against my family."

"What are you going to do?" Alaric asked.

Kurt donned a look of innocence which fooled no one. "Vampires are innately sexual creatures," he blandly replied. "Their libido is a driving force in their lives. I think an impotence curse is required."

Elena was the first one to laugh.

* * *

Kurt began the spell, and Alaric was floored when he realized the ritual was actually an invocation.

Kurt had invoked gods.

_Gods_.

This not only proved the existence of gods, but the continued existence of pagan deities. Kurt had called upon them as if he knew them personally, as if he had called upon them before, and they had _answered_.

Kurt had invoked Hestia, the ancient Greek goddess of hearth and home, and he explained that the roaring fire that appeared in the grate signaled her blessing. He had then invoked Hera, the patroness of family, and, for a moment, a diadem appeared on his head in blessing, acknowledging him as the head of the family they were at that moment creating, before disappearing.

Finally, he invoked Themis, the goddess and voice of divine law, by whom he swore an oath to protect his family, which he named as Alaric, Elena, and Jeremy. Behind each of them appeared a pillar, as the ancient Greeks regarded family as one of the pillars of society. Upon the face of each pillar was etched, in Hellenic script, the name of the person standing before it. Then, they, too, disappeared.

Hestia's fire consumed itself and vanished.

Kurt sagged with the effort and Jeremy raced to support him. Kurt offered him a tired but grateful smile.

"What _was _that?" Elena breathed.

Alaric stared, his arms trembling at his sides. "You invoked gods. We were just visited by actual gods."

"Yes," Kurt croaked. "I called upon the three goddesses who always placed family at the center of their worship."

Elena shook her head. "I didn't...I didn't understand until just now," she marveled. "Your power...it's beyond anything I've ever seen, anything I could even imagine."

"No," Kurt insisted, his voice weak. "That power was not mine. I asked and received their blessing for us. We were judged worthy, and that's down to all of us, not just me. I called upon them, but any witch could do that."

Alaric was incredulous. "Yeah, right, and do you expect us to believe that gods answer anyone who calls? Three of them were just in this house! They answered _you_. You _are _that powerful."

Kurt waved him off and nodded when Jeremy asked if he needed to sit down.

"Just to catch my breath," Kurt said. "That was more intense than I was expecting."

"They were gods!" Alaric roared.

Kurt rolled his eyes.

"So the ritual worked?" Jeremy whispered.

Kurt nodded and laid his head on his cousin's shoulder. "It did."

Jeremy beamed.

"I could feel it," Elena murmured. "It felt like a weight was lifting, only for another just as important to be added." She shook her head. "But it doesn't feel like a burden. It's...joyous."

Jeremy nodded, unable to stop himself from grinning like an idiot.

Kurt then relayed a telepathic message to Jeremy, followed by one to Elena, who crossed the room to his side. He held out his hands and they each took one. Both were almost sent to their knees by the feeling now overwhelming them.

"What is that?" Elena asked, tears leaking from her eyes.

"That's the love your brother has for you," Kurt said, "and he's feeling yours for him. Never forget it. When the world gets cold and dark, and you feel alone and forget that you are loved, remember this moment."

Elena sobbed and tears fell from Jeremy's eyes.

Kurt turned toward Elena and chastely kissed her lips. "Perfect love." He turned and kissed Jeremy. "Perfect trust. That's what family is. Despite silences and anger, despite resentments and grief, at the center of it all is this."

Through the kiss each shared with him, Jeremy and Elena could feel his own love for them, his trust in them, his promise that he would never abandon them.

"Why have I never felt this before?" Elena whispered.

"Because you didn't know to look for it until it was taken from you," Kurt answered. "Come, Alaric. You're part of this, too."

Hesitantly, he crossed the room and stood awkwardly before them. Elena stood and kissed his cheek as Jeremy hugged him. He felt it, their love for him echoed in his for them. As Kurt stood to embrace him, Alaric didn't know what came over him, but he chose not to fight it. He leaned his head down and his lips connected with those of Kurt.

Instantly, the two were enveloped in a light so bright, Jeremy and Elena were forced to close their eyes and turn away, though they still clung to Alaric and Kurt. As the light began to dim, Kurt forced an end to the kiss and immediately looked away.

"What was that?" Jeremy demanded.

"The finalization of the bond," Kurt said. "That's all."

He was lying, and Alaric knew it.

* * *

As Alaric puzzled over what the hell had possibly happened between him and Kurt, Kurt himself was far too busy rushing through the other rituals he had planned. He was meticulous, of course, which they had come to expect of him, and while he was an excellent actor, it was apparent, to Alaric at least, that he was anxious to leave.

The cleansing ritual for the rings was traumatic for all involved, but particularly those who bore them. Both Alaric and Jeremy had screamed in undiluted agony as the psychic residue was stripped, and while they thankfully weren't made to endure their previous deaths, they felt the suffering of those who had previously worn the rings.

Elena, and especially Kurt, had murmured soothing comforts and fawned all over them, though Kurt restricted himself to Jeremy, which only deepened Alaric's concern. Kurt had definitely thrown up a wall between them, and Alaric felt an equally strong urge to tear it down. He didn't even understand why! Well, he had his suspicions, but wasn't ready to voice them. He wasn't sure he'd ever be ready.

Finally, Kurt performed the revocation ritual that would disinvite any vampire previously admitted to the house. That ceremony was far more thrilling to watch, because it was almost as though Kurt was a conductor leading a symphony. He made complicated movements with his hands, which only he understood, and chanted in an ancient tongue they didn't understand. He later identified it as _Althochdeutsch_, or Old High German, and his voice had thrummed deeply and with palpable power.

By the time he was through, he looked exhausted and had purple shadows beneath his eyes. Jeremy had tried and failed to convince him to stay the night rather than driving back to the hotel, but Kurt had demurred. After all, he still had to call Quinn, and Damon was waiting for him.

That only concerned Jeremy more, fretting that all of the power Kurt had expended would leave him weak to confront Damon. Kurt had simply waved Jeremy's concerns away, assuring him that Damon posed no real threat, and he was rather curious as to how far the vampire could be pushed.

Elena and Jeremy insisted on goodbye hugs. Kurt complied, but only nodded in Alaric's general direction, which the other man found mysteriously depressing. They had all exacted a promise that Kurt would return tomorrow morning. Elena and Jeremy were anxious to show him around the town, and Kurt was actually looking forward to it.

As he crossed the threshold and stood on the porch, Elena attempted once more to get him to stay.

"Are you sure you can handle Damon?" she asked worriedly.

Kurt slowly turned around and smirked. "Oh, you just leave him to me."

With that, he disappeared, materializing in his car, which then blinked out of sight.

"That is so cool," Jeremy whispered.

"It's certainly not going to get boring anytime soon," Elena cheerfully agreed.

"I feel better with him here," Jeremy admitted. "Safer."

She nodded. "He's family."

Alaric said nothing, staring out the window long after Elena and Jeremy had gone upstairs.

* * *

**End Note**: This chapter and the previous had two brief crossovers with _The Good Wife_ and _Body of Proof_, two of my favorite shows.

Alicia Florrick is the protagonist of _The Good Wife_, which is, quite honestly, one of the best shows on television, in my opinion. She's played by Julianna Marguelies.

Megan Hunt is the protagonist of _Body of Proof_ and is played by Dana Delany. Megan is a tremendous bitch, and I love every second of it.

The storyline with Noah is secondary and had no major impact on the story.


	9. Fear and Loathing

Kurt deposited his truck behind the hotel, sure that no one would be around to witness its arrival.

He made a mental note to get an oil change soon.

He climbed out and frowned as locked up, debating whether or not he even wanted to keep the Navigator. It was still in good shape, but it was almost ten years old. His reasons for holding on to it were entirely sentimental: it had been given to him by his father, and it still smelled like Sam.

However, it was also too much for him. He'd never needed all the space it afforded, even during high school when he used to drive the girls around town and to the outlet malls. It was also a gas guzzler.

Still, he didn't really want to get rid of it.

He dropped his keys in his pocket and slowly walked around the building, deep in thought.

Perhaps he should consider giving it to Jeremy. He had noticed earlier that, while Elena and Alaric had cars, Jeremy didn't. That wasn't exactly fair. Jeremy was sixteen, after all, so maybe Kurt should give him the truck his father had given him at that age. Would that be inappropriate? He wasn't sure. Also, he was just assuming Jeremy was as responsible as he had been at that age. Still, he wanted Jeremy to have a car, just in case he needed to make an escape.

He wondered if he was being blasé about his money again. His father had often warned him about that, and Kurt had taken it to heart. Yes, he had a lot of money, but though he liked nice things, he was still prudent with his purchases.

Of course, giving the Navigator to Jeremy would be cheaper than buying him his own car, used or not.

He nodded. He'd make the offer and see what Jeremy thought of it. He should probably consult with Alaric first, however.

Kurt supposed he would thus need to start thinking about a car for himself. He wanted something smaller, but with adequate cargo room. He preferred American cars and knew that light-colored vehicles often had less expensive insurance premiums.

Perhaps he could go shopping for one sometime this week, take the family with him.

He stopped in his tracks, his thoughts tripping over that word.

But that's what they were now, yes? The ritual had ensured that. They were a family.

He sighed. Had he pressured them into that? He had brought up the subject, but they had all agreed. The ritual would safeguard them in some measure, and he certainly felt better knowing he would be made aware should Jeremy or Elena need him.

In fact, right now, he knew they were both sleeping soundly, for which he was grateful. Jeremy had looked exhausted from the moment Kurt first laid eyes on him, and Elena, well, he had gotten the impression that even with he and Alaric there, she felt the onus for running the family had fallen to her.

He hoped he had alleviated her concerns on that score. She was far too young to be worrying about such things. He had been her age when he had lost his father, yes, but he hadn't needed to worry about looking after a younger brother. Finn was his own age and still had Carole.

Alaric was still awake, he realized, and pacing.

Kurt forced out a breath.

That had been...unexpected. And unwelcome.

He had no idea what he was going to do about it, but knew he would need to do something. This was so unfair, to him, and especially to Alaric.

He shook his head and hissed obscenities under his breath.

Finally, he approached the front door of the hotel, figuring Damon had been given enough warning to his arrival.

Well, this should be interesting.

* * *

Kurt entered the inn and headed up the stairs, erecting silencing wards as he went. He was fairly certain things would get loud. As he headed toward his room, he narrowed his eyes and looked down the shadowed hallway, he sensed Damon looming in the darkness, waiting for him.

Really? A vampire waiting to strike from the shadows?

How cliché.

"Hey, Overbite," he said blandly as he unlocked the door and crossed into his room. "What do you want? Something?"

He could literally feel the confusion, outrage, and annoyance seeping from Damon's every pore. He manage to suppress his cackle, but only just. After putting his keys on the table and dropping his bag to the floor, he turned around to face the threshold, upon which Damon suddenly appeared.

"Cute parlor trick," Damon sneered. "I presume the others warned you."

"Incorrect. I warned them."

Damon blinked harshly. "What are you?"

"Beyond you," Kurt replied. "What do you want, Damon?" he repeated. "It's been a long day, and I still have things to do."

Damon stared in consternation. This wasn't at all going according to plan. He had meant to instill terror, longing, confusion, and _terror_. Where was the terror?

He slowly began fuming. Not only was this little prick unafraid of him, of what he was, but he could smell the others on him. He had expected it, of course, particularly with Elena and Jeremy, but being confronted with it was something else entirely. He smelled Elena's lips on Kurt's own, as well as those of Jeremy, but, most distressingly, he smelled Alaric.

That stoked a possessive fury he had never imagined he would feel. Alaric was _his_ friend; he didn't belong to this little boy playing adult.

He wanted answers, and he would have them. He stared into Kurt's eyes.

Five seconds later, he realized his folly.

"You can't compel me," Kurt yawned. "Give up now, before you embarrass yourself any further." He cocked his head. "Although, I'm unsure that's possible."

Damon growled and tried to rush him, but couldn't enter the room. He looked around with wide eyes. "Witch," he hissed, baring his fangs.

Kurt had to admit, if only to himself, the whole Evil Vampire Face was somewhat impressive. "Well done," he acknowledged. "Of course, I had believed you would have figured it out much more quickly." He shrugged. "Oh, well. Tell me, are you always this slow, or is it that I reek so much of Alaric and Elena that it's throwing you off your game?"

Damon snarled. How did the boy know these things? Further, why couldn't he get inside? He had managed to do so earlier, and with ease. "You set a ward."

Kurt nodded. "Several. The first was to allow me to know if someone entered the room, which you did. After my arrival, I began erecting a series of wards so that our privacy wouldn't be disturbed. Finally, I just now set one barring you from the room."

Damon smirked. "You're afraid of me."

Kurt laughed. "Don't flatter yourself, and don't mistake caution for fear. This ward is more to protect you than me. I promised Elena I wouldn't do any lasting damage."

Despite the absurdity of this situation and the warning in Kurt's words, Damon was warmed by Elena's concern for him. "So you are a witch."

Kurt blinked. "You actually _did _need for me to spell that out for you?"

Damon frowned, silently admitting and ruing that he had so easily walked into that one. "What are you doing here?" he demanded. "What are you _really_ doing here?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "I'm here for Elena and Jeremy, of course. I have no agenda in Mystic Falls, Damon, other than my family." His eyes darkened. "They're _my_ family."

Damon's head reared back slightly, in consternation and indignation, at the power and possessiveness underscoring those words. It was that tone of voice, far more than any ward, which told him this was probably not someone he should underestimate.

"Do you really believe you can protect them?" he asked, honestly curious.

Kurt considered the question. "Yes," he finally said. "If I wasn't, I wouldn't bother to stay. I'd simply take them and leave."

Damon had to concede that was a viable alternative. Clearly, this kid thought he had some ability, and perhaps it was even true. Maybe Kurt _could _handle the likes of him and Stefan, but Klaus and the other Originals were something else altogether, and this kid needed to recognize that.

"Oh, I do."

Damon's eyes widened. _Telepathy_.

"Good for you!" Kurt exclaimed, breaking into exaggerated applause.

Well, that would certainly be a tactical advantage, Damon supposed, ignoring the sarcasm.

"It frequently is, yes," Kurt agreed.

Damon set his jaw. "So you're going to stay."

"Of course I am," Kurt snapped. "Did you really think I would leave? They're my family, Damon, more so now than ever."

"What does that mean?"

Kurt smirked. "_Genesi Familia_."

Damon reared back as if struck. "You already did the ritual?" he demanded.

Kurt simply stared at him.

"Who bore witness?" Damon continued. "Bonnie? Some other witch?"

"Three gods."

At that, Damon finally began to understand it was he who was not in Kurt's league, not the other way around. If this boy could invoke gods, if he could channel their power...

"I have no need to channel anyone's power," Kurt said softly, his tone deadly serious.

Damon swallowed, but his face betrayed nothing. "So you're the _paterfamilias_ now. Congratulations," he said, sneering. "I hope the three of you will be very happy in your new family."

"Four."

Damon blinked. "What?"

"Four," Kurt repeated. "You left out Alaric, but I certainly didn't."

Damon saw red.

"Control yourself!" Kurt commanded, his eyes glowing as wind began flapping at his hair. "I promised Elena I wouldn't hurt you beyond repair, but that's all." His eyes narrowed. "Rest assured that I have your full measure, so it's only fair to give you mine. Unlike you and your brother, Elena is not my only concern."

Damon opened his mouth to interrupt, but was summarily cut off.

"Spare me," Kurt snapped. "Whatever you've done to protect Jeremy, Alaric, and their friends is incidental. You've already _killed_ my cousin and his guardian. If they hadn't had their rings, this would be an entirely different meeting.

"Leaving aside those antics, you still have a long of sins I plan to redress, including what you did to Caroline. She may have convinced herself that she's moved beyond it, but there's a wealth of pain she's trapped away inside of her with which she has yet to deal. That doesn't include the devastating hurt you've inflicted upon Elizabeth."

That struck closer to home than Damon would've liked. The truth of the matter was that he was fond of Liz. The woman was strong with a good heart, but she wasn't some simpering milquetoast either. When the situation demanded, she had a backbone of steel, and he respected that.

Kurt was surprised by the level of feeling Damon held for Elizabeth. Perhaps this creature was worthy of more consideration than originally thought. That in mind, he explained to Damon what they had pieced together regarding the curse and Klaus' attempt to break it.

Damon had to admit, albeit grudgingly and only to himself, that it made a certain amount of sense. "So you think he wants Stefan for something else."

Kurt shrugged a shoulder. "I think that it's possible, yes. The question is what, and how do we go about discovering it? Were you aware they knew each other?"

Damon thought about prevaricating, but finally decided that, in this instance, discretion was not the better part of valor. "No," he finally said, "but Stefan and I didn't talk for many years, and even during our reconnections, we rarely spoke about our time apart."

Kurt nodded as if he had guessed as much, which was entirely possible. "It was fairly obvious how much Elena cares about him, despite her trying not to show it." He cocked a brow. "Do you feel the same?"

Damon shrugged. "She loves him."

"That wasn't my question," Kurt said. "Do _you _love Stefan? I have a brother of my own, and I know what I would do if he were in a similarly precarious situation. What I'm asking you is this: how much do you love your brother? Is he worth saving?"

Damon was floored, obviously so. No one ever before had asked that question. Usually Stefan was held up as the pinnacle of proper behavior, while Damon was relegated to the role of perpetual fuckup. He supposed he had a lot in common with Jeremy in that regard.

"Don't underestimate Jeremy," Kurt said softly. "It would be to your peril."

As intriguing as that statement was, Damon was forced to lay it aside and consider the previous question. His feelings for Stefan were complicated and not often spoken aloud, or even in the privacy of his own mind. It was Stefan, after all, who he blamed for setting him on this path.

Kurt's eyes widened with surprise. "I had no idea," he whispered, "but I'm glad that oversight has been corrected." He frowned. "We can play this one of two ways, vampire: we can either be allies, or we can be enemies. There is no in-between. If you ally with me and then betray me, or my family, I will kill you. If we are to be enemies, I will still kill you, but it would be an honorable death."

Damon grinned. Was this kid for real? Who talked like that?

"I suspect you did, once upon a time," Kurt answered, smirking. "Don't you find yourself missing eloquent vocabulary and declarative statements?"

Damon snorted. As a matter of fact, he did.

"What does allying with you get me?" he asked frankly.

"It gets me in your corner," Kurt said. "I will protect you if I'm able, but you would be considered secondary to my family. Family always, and without question, comes first."

Damon nodded slightly. He could actually respect that. "You'll protect Elena with everything you've got?"

"Yes," Kurt said, "including from you and your brother. However much she loves him and whatever she feels for you are not my concern. Her well-being is."

"What if it comes down to me and Stefan?" Damon asked baldly.

Kurt paused. Obviously, this scenario was one which had been preying on Damon's mind. "As of right now," he said slowly, "I can't honestly say. I don't know your brother. I've never met him. I won't make promises I can't keep."

Damon supposed that was good enough, or at least as good as he could expect.

"Don't make the mistake that we're friends," Kurt warned. "I will kill you if necessary, and I won't even think twice about it. As it is, I owe you vengeance for the pain you've inflicted on Jeremy and Alaric."

Damon rolled his eyes. "And what are you going to do?"

"I've already done it," Kurt snapped back. "Good lucking figuring out exactly what it is I've done." He grinned wolfishly. "When you do, let me know, won't you?" he asked sweetly.

With a wave of his hand, he sent Damon flying down the stairs, the door to his room slamming shut. He smirked at the plethora of curse words the vampire spat.

"That looked like fun."

Kurt turned around and arched a brow. "It was."

"We need to talk."

He glowered. "Apparently. Let's start with the fact that I didn't know you were dead. Why the hell didn't I know that, Lexi?"

* * *

An hour later, Kurt was finally alone in his room, mulling over the things he had learned, particularly about the Salvatore brothers. He now had entirely new reasons to despise them. He was also thoroughly exhausted.

It had been painfully obvious how much Lexi loved Stefan, much in the same way Kurt himself loved Finn. It wasn't easy caring for someone who really had no idea why you bothered. From everything Lexi had told him, Stefan had even more self-esteem issues than Finn and Kurt himself combined, a feat that would have been worthy of note had it not been so pathetic.

Basically, Stefan was a wimp.

Oh, he had no doubt that Stefan loved Elena and would do everything possible to protect her, but he had some stupid code of chivalry which mandated that he protect her from himself, often at her expense. That was a level of crazy Kurt hadn't encountered since high school.

Of course, in reality, Stefan was still a teenager. He might have been over a hundred years old, but one thing Kurt had noticed about vampires was that they were inevitably stamped not only by the period in which they died, but by how long they had lived. Despite the passage of time and the knowledge that culture evolves, vampires were never truly at ease. They were always slightly out of phase with the reality around them.

Subtle markers, to be sure, but present nonetheless.

In Stefan's case, despite his relationship with Elena and his friendship with Lexi, there existed within him a chauvinism which was almost laughable in its complexity. Stefan tended to divide women into Good Girls and Bad Girls.

Good Girls were like Elena: sweet, smart, delicate creatures who needed defending, no matter how capable they were. In the end, only a man stood between them and peril.

Bad Girls were like Katherine: devious, cunning, and manipulative. They were far too seductive for their own good, and they enjoyed sex more than what was appropriate for their gender.

Lexi, he supposed, had fallen somewhere in between. She wasn't a Bad Girl, though she looked and spoke like one, but neither was she a Good Girl, in that she needed the protection of no one.

That is, of course, except from Damon, who had killed her to throw suspicion off himself. And Damon was just a dick.

Kurt quietly seethed as he plotted how to make Damon suffer even more.

Kurt had known Lexi for about four years. They had met in New York and, while they often didn't see one another, they kept in somewhat regular contact. He had figured something had happened, but he'd had no idea she was dead. Perhaps he hadn't wanted to know.

He'd never known that she knew Stefan and Damon, and thus Elena, but he supposed he shouldn't have been too surprised. Those vampires who survived at least a century knew of each other, even if they didn't truly know one another.

Lexi had admitted she hadn't come to him before because she was rather busy trying to watch over Stefan. Apparently, it was a full-time job. The truth of the matter, however, was that she hadn't believed anyone but Stefan would miss her.

That was just sad, in Kurt's estimation, and a little hurtful.

He missed her, and now he always would.

The events of the past few days were finally starting to catch up with him: Jenna's death and funeral, leaving Providence, lying to Finn and Rachel, reconnecting with his friends, Noah's legal problems, assuming guardianship over Elena and Jeremy.

Alaric.

He swallowed heavily.

Now there was another death to mourn, not to mention the annoyance that was Damon Salvatore. And, in the background, as always, was Sam. His chest ached and he choked down a sob.

He blew out a breath and stared grumpily at his phone. He owed some people some calls, but he really didn't feel up to it.

_Not even for me?_

He closed his eyes and tears began slipping down his cheeks. _Hey, Sweetness_.

_I've missed you_.

His face collapsed as he gave in fully to the emotions he had been battling for the past year. _I hurt so much_.

And then she was before him, pushing him up and sliding into the space next to him, pulling him down on top of her.

"It's okay, Kurty," Brittany whispered. "You're not alone."


	10. Deliverance

He wasn't sure how long his head laid in Brittany's lap, her gentle fingers carding through his hair, an action he allowed only by her. He vaguely remembered his mother doing the same, years before, but he was never quite sure, and he had never asked his father if his memory was true or merely invented comfort. He supposed it didn't matter anymore.

So, as he had countless times over many years, he unburdened himself to her patient ear. As always, she listened to every word without interrupting, something he appreciated more than he could ever say. Despite what many people believed, Brittany had a rather lengthy attention span when she chose to employ it. It was just that, usually, she couldn't be bothered.

After he was done, he sat up, and she stood and retrieved him a glass of water. He whispered his thanks as she retook her place next to him.

In all the years, through all the friends, events, and life-changing moments, she had been at his side, and he couldn't imagine anyone else in her place. The only thing she didn't know about him was what he had confided to Quinn the night previous. The only reason he hadn't told Brittany was because he didn't want to see her jailed.

"Oh, baby," she murmured. "You've always been the smartest, but the one thing you've never learned is that you don't always have to be the strong one." She shook her head. "You can't be everything for everyone, Kurty," she counseled.

"But Jeremy and Elena..."

"That's different," she quietly interrupted. "Despite their lives, they're still children. Yes, they need you. They need your guidance and wisdom. They need your physical presence to tether them to this reality." She sighed. "But the rest of us? No, Kurt. You can't fix our problems."

He blinked in confusion. "I don't understand."

"Yes, you do. You've done all you can for Puck; the rest is up to the lawyers and that doctor lady." She paused. "I can understand why you want to be the one to tell Quinn," she finally said, "but you can't make for her the decision she will need to make."

"I know that," he protested.

"Do you?" she challenged. "I know you, Kurt. You'll want to spare her the pain, but she has to feel this. She has to face this. She's Beth's mother, not you."

It stung more than it should have, which he didn't understand.

"Finn and Rachel will be fine," she continued. "They always are. They decided a long time ago to seal themselves away in a bubble. They'll take care of their daughter and each other. It's okay that you moved."

He heaved a tremulous sigh, not even knowing until she said the words how guilty he felt for his supposed abandonment of his brother and his brother's family.

"That goes for Carole, as well," Brittany added. "I know you love her, Kurt, but she's not your mother. She never tried to be, and no one expected you to consider her in that way. For as long as she's been in your life, I've never known you to be anything less than kind and respectful to her. You don't have to feel guilty for not feeling what you think you should."

He cringed and drew in on himself. He was the telepath, but Brittany had always been the only one who could see right through him, through all of his layered and calculated veneers.

"I'm selfish," he insisted, voice harsh.

"No," she sharply countered. "Once upon a time, you may have been self-absorbed, we all were, but one thing you never were is selfish. You have always placed the wants and needs of others before your own. _Always_. If you were as selfish as you believed, you wouldn't feel the unnecessary and undeserved guilt that follows you around."

She drew him against her, laying his head on her shoulder. "There's nothing you can do for me and Santana. That's something we'll have to work out for ourselves. Eventually, we will, but that time isn't now. As for Mercedes, you have no reason to feel guilty. She knows what she did, how badly she hurt both you and Sam, and while I'm glad she's sorry for it, the blame is hers, and hers alone. You did nothing wrong, and you should know that."

"Maybe if I had tried..."

"You shouldn't have to be the one who always tries," she said staunchly. She fell silent and appeared to be considering her words very closely. "Kurt, there comes a point in time when you have to consider the relationships in your life and what you get from them. That isn't selfish; it's necessary."

He arched a brow and waited.

"Frankly, the rest of us never understood what is was that tied you to her. The two of you have almost nothing in common that goes beyond the superficial. You were brought together because of Glee and because the only other option for you would have been Rachel." She frowned. "I don't think Tina or Artie had learned to speak yet."

He pressed his lips tightly together and swallowed his laughter.

Her face, however, was quite serious. "In your darkest moments, where was she, Kurt? Where was she when Uncle Burt had his heart attack? Where was she when you were staying alone in your house, wondering if the next time you saw your father would be the last? She was more interested in converting you to her faith than she was in actually helping you."

Kurt had to admit, silently, that Brittany had a point.

"Where was she when Karofsky was at his worst? Where was she when you transferred?" She raised a brow. "Did she ever come to visit you at Dalton, even once?"

He shook his head. The rest had - Brittany and the other girls, Sam, and even Artie - but not Mercedes. She had been too angry, too hurt that he had left her.

"We'll skip over her behavior at Uncle Burt's funeral," Brittany said carefully.

Kurt winced. Mercedes had been almost as bombastic and inconsolable as Finn, to which, at the time, Kurt had taken great offense.

"She played no role in your life until Sam died," Brittany said, tears gathering in her eyes as they always did when she spoke of Sam. "Then she appeared out of the blue to weep on your shoulder and fuss unnecessarily before flitting back to Los Angeles to return to her life."

"That's not exactly what happened," he halfheartedly argued.

She sniffed and made no comment. "Kurty, I'm not saying she doesn't love you. I'm not saying you shouldn't be her friend. All I'm saying is that it takes two to make a relationship work, and I don't see where she's ever expended any effort. That was always on you, and when you didn't live up to her expectations, she punished you for it."

She sighed. "It's okay that you like her. It really is. You shouldn't feel guilty that you _do_ like her. You don't need our permission to have your own friends. All I'm saying is that I want you to understand how difficult it can be, watching you give everything you have, while she takes it and offers nothing in return."

She shrugged. "I haven't spoken to her in six years. I don't even know her anymore. Maybe she's changed, and, if she has, good for her, but it's never going to be what it was, Kurt, and you need to learn that. Because what you believe it was never really existed."

He flinched and looked down at his lap.

She took his face in her hands. "You have to let it go, Kurt. You can't be the single thing that keeps the rest of us together. I'm sorry if this hurts you, but you're the only one who cares. We never liked her. She never liked us. Quinn and Santana were never really friends. Finn and Rachel have been off in their own world since sophomore year. We've all moved on, and you need to do that, too."

"I can't," he sobbed, new tears streaking down his cheeks. "I can't. If I don't have you, I have nothing."

She scowled. "That's not true. First and foremost, you have yourself. You are one of the strongest people I've ever met in my life. There's nothing wrong with, or shameful about, being your own best friend. Second, just because the rest of us are no longer close doesn't mean _you're_ not close to _us_. You always will be. Our friendships with you are not contingent upon us being friends with each other."

She stroked the apple of his cheek. "Okay?" she whispered.

He nodded automatically. He had heard her words, but would need time to process them. She knew that, for which he was grateful.

"Third," she continued, "you do have other people in your life. You have Elena and Jeremy; they're your family. You have Scott and Savannah; they've been your parents for almost seven years. Stevie and Stacy are your brother and sister. Sam's death, as horrible as it was, didn't change that."

"I know," he whispered. "_I_ changed. I pushed everyone away."

"Oh, baby," she said sadly, drawing him into an embrace. "You were mourning. You still are. We all know that, and it's okay. You have to grieve in the way that makes sense to you. You don't need to appease anyone else."

"It hurts so much," he gasped, his eyes searching hers as he shook his head frantically. "I didn't think it was possible to feel this much pain and still be alive. And it's not getting any better. Some days, I think it's worse."

"Kurt, you and Sam were together for seven years. You graduated high school together. You went to college together. You planned to get married and raise a family together. You built a _life_ with each other." She shook her head. "All of that love, all of that want and desire, doesn't go away because he did."

As her tears began to fall, his increased.

"Listen to me," she implored. "Please listen. One night - one horrible, irrevocable, life-changing night - because of bad weather and a drunken idiot, the love of your life was stolen from you. You laid in a coma while he laid in the morgue. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. It never will be. It's going to take more time than you've allotted. You can't schedule this. There's no right or wrong way to grieve. It's going to take as long as it needs, and your permission isn't required."

Against his will, he laughed, though it emerged as more of a croak. He desperately wanted to ask if she had seen Sam, if she had summoned him, but he didn't, because he was afraid of the answer. He knew he wouldn't see Sam until he had accepted the loss, and he knew that time was very far off.

"I can still feel him, Brittany," he whispered. "Some mornings I wake up, and I would swear his arms are around me. I see flashes of him from the corner of my eye, when I turn too fast or the light is too bright. I smell him on my pillow and in the car. He lingers."

"Maybe you should be thankful for that," she suggested. "Maybe you should take comfort in it. Maybe they're not the tricks of your imagination you've dismissed them as being."

His eyes widened. "You think...you think it could really be him?"

She sniffled. "What I think is that Sam Evans was one of the kindest, sweetest, most loving boys I've ever known. What I think is that Sam Evans would never allow death to separate him completely from Kurt Hummel." She took his hands in hers. "If I have that much faith in Sam Evans, why don't you?"

He pitched himself forward into her arms and howled in rage, releasing all of the emotions he'd been repressing for so very long, understanding now that it had been to his detriment. He had tried so hard to be strong, too hard. He hadn't allowed himself to feel what he was truly feeling, believing he wasn't entitled, or that it was selfish of him to give into his misery.

"Embrace it, Kurty," Brittany whispered. "Feeling pain lets you know that you're still alive. _It's okay that you lived_. He would have wanted nothing less."

He screamed. He didn't stop for ten minutes.

* * *

When he was finally done, he felt curiously light. The pain was still there, but lessened for his acknowledgment of it. How he had ever convinced himself that he could simply muddle through the rest of his life, allowing that pain to touch him in only the most marginal of ways, was beyond him.

For all of his intelligence, his wit, and his charm, Brittany was so much _more_.

"Thank you," he whispered.

She shrugged and gave him a teasing smile. "It's what I do."

"Nobody does it better."

Her eyes lighted and then darkened. "You need to start singing again."

He shook his head. "I can't."

"You will," she argued. "You were singing long before Sam, Kurt, and you will sing after him. It's as much a part of you as he was, as breathing is." She waved a hand. "I'm not saying you should go out and perform, but you need to sing. You need to get in touch with that part of yourself again."

He silently admitted she might have had a point, but declined to comment. She followed his lead.

"I'm sorry about Lexi," she said quietly. "Were you close?"

He opened his mouth and then abruptly closed it, cocking his head. "Not really, I suppose, but I liked her a great deal. I think you would have, as well. She combined the best parts of Sam and Santana."

She smiled and nodded. "Maybe I'll get to meet her sometime." She raised a brow. "I can see ghosts, too, you know."

He laughed, marveling at how free he felt by doing so.

"Tell me about Elena and Jeremy," she coaxed.

And so he did, and the more he talked, the more excited he became, the more he realized how much he loved them, how much he wanted to be with him.

"Then it's right that you're here," she said. "The circumstances are regrettable, but they _do _need you, Kurt."

He nodded, hope shining in his eyes. Then it dimmed.

She held up a finger to her lips. "Don't. Don't let those dark thoughts rob you of this chance. Don't let them allow you to doubt yourself. You can do this, Kurty. It's okay to feel love. It's okay to feel joy. Who are you helping by feeling otherwise? Do you think Sam would want to you to continue to live as you have been? Do you think Miranda, Grayson, and Jenna would want a zombie looking after Elena and Jeremy?"

He sighed. "I know you're right," he admitted. "It's just that..."

She nodded. "Alaric. You know what it means."

"It doesn't mean anything," he spat.

"Yes, it does, Kurt," she hissed, glowering, "and you know it that. It doesn't have to mean everything, but it does mean _something_. You have to tell him. It would be too cruel if you didn't. You can't allow him to feel these things and not explain to him why he's feeling them, especially if they're not going to be reciprocated. That would be agony for him." She glared. "Could you really do that to him?"

"Of course not," he whispered, "but it's so unfair."

She blinked. "Why is it unfair?" She frowned. "Unless..." She startled. "Oh. Oh, _wow_."

Kurt fidgeted. "No."

"Kurt..."

"_No_, Brittany."

"All right," she said softly, backing off. She knew he would have to take his time with this, consider the ramifications and examine the possibilities. He wasn't ready to do that yet, and she wasn't going to push him. "You do have to tell him something, though, Kurt. Explain it as resultant of the spell, but tell him _something_.

He nodded. "I will, I promise."

"Your word," she insisted.

"You have my word."

* * *

His conversation with Quinn was horrible. His previous breakdown earlier that night in Brittany's arms paled in comparison to the cacophony of emotions which she was forced to endure.

Regardless, she had reached some conclusions.

First, though she couldn't stand Noah and was unable even to posit attending his trial, she was adamant in her assertion that there was no way in hell he ever would have hurt Shelby, let alone killed her. It was obvious someone else had committed the act, and was using Noah as a patsy. The questions were _who _and _why_.

Neither she nor Kurt had any answers, but they would trust Santana to find them.

Second, she was not emotionally prepared to care for Beth. She loved her daughter with everything she had, and she loved her enough to admit that she was not what Beth needed at the moment. It would be too difficult and confusing for her, but especially for Beth.

Shelby had consented to an open adoption, but neither Quinn nor Noah had really followed through with that. Consequently, Quinn wasn't even sure Beth knew she was adopted. Even if she was, Quinn was a stranger to her. The last thing Beth needed after the murder of the only mother she had ever known was to be confronted with the mother who had given her up. That was just far too much to place on the thin, trembling shoulders of a child.

Kurt was relieved, though he didn't voice it. He knew how fragile Quinn was at the moment, and he wasn't about to push his feelings onto her.

She had desperately tried to convince him to take custody of Beth, arguing that there was no one she trusted more. He could support her financially, with help from Noah and Quinn herself, and she could be raised with Elena and Jeremy as her siblings.

Kurt had almost laughed at the absurdity of it. Even if he had wanted to, he never would have brought Beth to Mystic Falls and exposed her to its unseemly underbelly. He then, of course, had to explain about Damon and Stefan and Katherine and the rest.

Quinn proceeded to scream at him for goodness only knew how long, until Brittany snatched the phone right out of his hand and disappeared into the bathroom. She emerged fifteen minutes later with a contrite Quinn begging Kurt to forgive her, which, of course, he did.

He then, with great reluctance, made a suggestion which shocked even him.

To Quinn's credit, she didn't dismiss it out of hand, but neither did she agree to it right away. They spent the next hour weighing the pros and cons, before she finally conceded that it was perhaps the best alternative for Beth. Quinn asked that he make the offer, and he agreed, knowing it would be far too awkward for her to make it herself.

She then demanded that he call her if he needed her for anything, to which he agreed but most likely would never do. He loved Quinn, and he appreciated how much she loved him, but he would not drag her into the mess in which he had found himself in Mystic Falls. She had more than enough on her plate, and he wouldn't be adding to it.

He finally got her off the phone by pleading exhaustion, promising to speak with her again tomorrow. After he hung up, he and Brittany exchanged a long look.

"Do you really think this a good idea?" she asked.

He sighed gently. "I can't think of a better one, but I'm open to suggestions."

She shook her head slowly; whether it was in defeat or acceptance, he had no clue.

He sighed again and picked up the phone.

"Hello, Rachel," he quietly said.

* * *

As predicted, Rachel ranted and raved, in between breathless bursts of uncontrolled sobbing. It was compounded when Finn picked up the extension and began huffing and puffing about how, once again, Noah Puckerman was intruding upon their lives. Kurt was barely able to make out their words for all of their anger and pain, but he got the gist.

"Rachel," he interrupted, "do you really believe Noah did this?"

"Oh, of course not," she said dismissively, and he could tell she was rolling her eyes, "but I don't understand why he was there in the first place. We didn't even know he had moved to Chicago. Was it to be near Beth? Shelby? There are just so many _questions_, Kurt, and you know how I am about questions."

He nodded ruefully, somewhat relieved he had no real answers to give, lest they be deconstructed in minute detail by one Rachel Berry.

"So what happens now?" Finn demanded.

"I know a very good attorney in Chicago," Kurt replied, "and she's agreed to take Noah's case. Santana is flying out there as we speak to oversee him. You know how he is."

Finn grunted. "Yeah," he whispered. "I miss you."

Rachel remained silent, letting the brothers speak.

"I miss you, too, Finn," Kurt said, "but it's not as though I've moved across the country. I'm only hours away."

Finn heaved a tremendous and much put-upon sigh. "Yeah."

Kurt could almost hear the wheels turn in his brother's head and braced himself.

"You're not paying for his lawyer, are you?" Finn barked.

"No," Kurt lied. "Santana is taking care of that."

"Oh. Okay, then."

Kurt rolled his eyes. In truth, he was annoyed by how often Finn believed Kurt's finances were his own, as though he had any say in the matter. Finn had never once asked for money, even though he knew Kurt would gladly have given it to him, but he was always very concerned about where Kurt's money was being spent. He also knew that Finn _did_ care about Noah in his own way, and was perfectly willing for Santana to spend her money to see Noah set free.

"How are things going with Elena and Jeremy?" Rachel sniffled, wanting to get off the topic of Shelby. She was so confused about the woman, and knew she would be for a very long time. She was despondent over her mother's death and outraged at the manner of that death, but she didn't know what else she was supposed to feel. Shelby had never really loved her, a fact of which Rachel was well aware.

Kurt quietly recounted his meeting with his cousins, omitting all of the witchy parts.

"I'm glad you're there," Finn said suddenly and unexpectedly. "They really do need you."

"Thanks, Finny," Kurt whispered.

Finn sniffled, as he always did whenever Kurt used that term of endearment. Kurt was capitalizing on that fact, but felt no guilt for it. He simply couldn't deal with any more of Finn's incessant need to argue.

Kurt took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he was about to do. "There's another reason I'm calling."

"Oh?" asked a curious Rachel.

"What is it?" added a suspicious Finn.

Kurt bit his lip. "I've spoken with Quinn. She was hoping the two of you might consider accepting custody of Beth."

"What?!" Rachel squawked.

Finn was noticeably silent, which signaled to Kurt that he should continue. He knew how much his brother loved children, that he was already pressuring Rachel to have another baby. He knew Finn was still hurt that he hadn't been Beth's father. Quinn had allowed him to fall in love with that baby, had let him believe the child was his own, and Finn had never truly recovered.

That was the one machination of Quinn's for which Kurt still held a grudge. It had been incredibly cruel, and it had changed Finn far more than almost anyone realized.

"Quinn simply isn't able to care for Beth," Kurt said. "Her job is so incredibly demanding, and she's all alone in Washington. Of course she wants Beth with her, but she also knows how unfair it would be to the girl. Quinn works twelve-hour days and she's always on-call. Beth would end up being raised by a nanny. We all know that's not what she needs or deserves."

Rachel turned quiet, considering his points.

"Noah would be a wholly inappropriate choice," he added. "Even if he wasn't under suspicion, he doesn't have the money or the skills to raise a child, anymore than he did when we were in high school. He makes a decent living, but Santana said his apartment in Chicago is one step above roach motel. Even if he could take physical custody, it's likely it wouldn't be granted, and there's absolutely no chance of Quinn and Noah raising Beth together."

Finn snorted. "There never was."

Kurt decided to ignore that statement, despite its veracity.

"But why us?" Rachel asked.

"Well," Kurt said slowly, "technically, Beth is your sister, Rachel. Shelby had no other family, but is listed as your birth mother. You're her next of kin."

Rachel was shocked into a stupor.

"Kurt," Finn croaked, embarrassment coloring his voice, "we can't really..."

"Money won't be an issue," Kurt smoothly interrupted. "Shelby had resources, and Quinn will contribute, as well, if you agree. She will also make sure that Noah provides something for his child. Of course, you know that I..."

"No," Finn said staunchly. "We won't take your money. This is not your responsibility, Kurt."

"It's not yours, either," Kurt countered. "Believe me, I know what's being asked of you."

They both contemplated that, understanding he was referring to Elena and Jeremy.

"Quinn asked you first, didn't she?" Finn whispered.

Kurt knew there was nothing to be gained by lying. "She did," he confirmed, "but, obviously, that's not a viable scenario. There's enough on my plate already with Elena and Jeremy. Even if I wanted to accept custody, I can't ask Jeremy and Elena to welcome an unknown child into their home. They're dealing with far too much as it is."

Finn was stung that Kurt had been asked, but not really surprised. He had never understood why or how Kurt and Quinn had gotten to be as close as they were, but he had accepted it a while ago. He'd been given no other choice.

"I'm not asking you to do this," Kurt said. "I absolutely will not put that pressure on you. Other arrangements can, and will, be made, but Quinn would prefer that Beth be given to someone Quinn herself trusts, and no matter what happened between you, that's you, Finn."

Finn sighed.

"Don't make a decision right now," Kurt advised. "Take some time to think about and discuss it, and please know that it's perfectly fine if you decide you don't want to do this."

"I want to do this," Rachel whispered.

"Rach..." Finn muttered.

"I never thought of it that way, but she is my sister, Finn," Rachel interrupted. "In the end, Shelby has little to do with this. All I can think of is what if it were me? What if this were Cosette?"

Kurt didn't know why, but he was shocked at the changes motherhood had brought about in this woman. He'd seen it with his own eyes, of course, but never had he imagined Rachel Berry would develop this inner well of selflessness.

"You never have to worry about Cosette," Kurt said softly.

At that, both Rachel and Finn burst into tears.

"I wish you weren't so far away," she wailed at Kurt. "How are we going to do this without you?"

He smiled into the phone. "You don't need me, Rachel. You're a wonderful mother. Finn is a wonderful father. If you decide to open your hearts and your home to Beth, you're going to be just fine."

"It's better when you're close," Finn whispered.

"I'm always with you," Kurt insisted. "All you ever need to do is pick up the phone, and I'll be there."

"You're different now," Finn noted. "Is it because of the kids?"

"Partly," Kurt acknowledged, his eyes sliding toward his friend as he beamed, "but it's mostly because of Brittany."

"Is she there?" Rachel asked warmly. "Is she with you?"

"She is."

"I'm glad," Finn said. "Tell her hi for us, okay?"

"Of course."

"And tell...tell Quinn we'll take Beth," Finn added, his voice rising at the end as though it were a question.

"We'll take her," Rachel said. "I've always wanted a sister. Now that I have one, I'm not going to let her be shuffled around like a deck of cards." She paused. "What's our next step?"

Kurt exhaled. "I'll call Santana in the morning. She can get the ball rolling. I'm not exactly sure of the process. I assume Shelby had an attorney and probably a will, but we don't know what arrangements she may have made for Beth. As we all know, Shelby had no other family, but it's possible she left Beth with a friend." He paused. "If that's the case, do you want to fight for her?"

"Yes," Finn and Rachel both answered.

"I want her with someone we know," Finn added. "If it can't be us, then at least someone we can trust to take care of her."

Brittany poked Kurt's stomach. "It will be fine."

He arched a brow and covered up the mouthpiece of the phone with a hand. "Did you see something?"

She shrugged a shoulder. "Finn and Rachel will get custody. It will all work out. This is the best solution."

He stared at her and at last nodded. Sometimes, Brittany could be as cryptic as the Sphinx, but she was always right. He had learned years ago to take comfort in that fact, if not always her proclamations.

"You should both be ready to go to Chicago if necessary," he said into the phone. "Will that be a problem?"

"I'm on summer vacation," Finn said.

"I'm between shows," Rachel added.

"We can leave the baby with Mom," Finn said.

Kurt paused. "Actually, Cosette might just be your secret weapon. I'm sure Beth is terribly frightened and confused, and she's old enough to understand her mother's dead. She'll be terrified of what's going to happen to her. Introducing her to her new niece, or sister, or however you want to play this, would give her something on which to concentrate."

"That's true," Rachel said slowly.

She was interrupted when Cosette awoke, screaming for her next feeding.

"I'd better see to her," Rachel said. "Kurt, thank you. I think...I think this is going to be good for all of us."

"If anyone can do it, it's you and Finn, Rachel," he said honestly.

"Good night, brother," she said happily.

"Good night. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

She blew a kiss and hung up, leaving Kurt to talk to his brother.

"How are you, really?" Finn asked.

"Scared," Kurt bluntly replied.

"If you really believe Rachel and I can do this, then so can you, Kurt. Those kids don't know how lucky they are."

Kurt's eyes dampened. "You know, I really needed to hear that right now, especially from you. Thanks, Finn."

"You're still coming for Christmas, right?" Finn pressed.

"You can count on me."

"That's the thing. I always have."

* * *

Kurt texted Quinn, not really up to any more heavy conversation, and decided he'd wait until the morning to speak with Santana.

He and Brittany crawled into the bed and soon fell asleep.

For the first time in a long time, Kurt's rest was untroubled.

* * *

**End Note**: Welcome to wise!Brittany. I really hadn't planned to make her a part of the story, but she was suddenly there, and who am I to fight her?

There was some confusion about the last chapter, as a few readers believed Brittany was a ghost. Rest assured, Brittany is the one _Glee_ character I will never, ever kill off. Even the thought of it makes me too sad.

Here's my thing with Brittany: canon is a joke, as far as she's concerned. No one could possibly be that ignorant and function in life, let alone get as far as she has. A 0.0 GPA isn't even possible, so where the writers pulled that from is beyond me. Personally, I find Brittany to be warm, funny, witty, and sly. There so much potential to be mined there, and it's a shame it's been ignored. I refuse to ignore it.

Some people might argue that the Brittany in this story couldn't possibly exist, but remember that she's twenty-five here. She's been to college (Stanford) and is an engineer. She's still batty, but she knows and accepts who she is, drawing strength from it. Thus, others draw strength from her. So this is my adult!Brittany, and she's awesome. If you don't like her, I feel sorry for you.


	11. Unintended Consequences

The next morning saw changes in the Gilbert household.

For the first time since he was a small child, Jeremy was the first one to wake, having enjoyed his first full night's rest since his parents died. He took a quick shower, dressed, and then bounded downstairs, his hair still wet.

Whistling, he put on a pot of coffee and debated what to make for breakfast. He wasn't much of a cook - his mother had tried to teach him, but that experiment had gone up in literal flames - but he could make a few staples. Nodding to himself, he preheated a pan for the bacon as he began whipping a full dozen eggs.

At the last minute, he set the kettle to boil. There were some mornings when his sister preferred tea. He supposed if she didn't feel like it today, she could just turn off the kettle.

He paused and stared at his handiwork, bewildered.

This wasn't him. He wasn't _helpful_. Since when did he whistle?

He shrugged, grinned to himself, and continued about his business, dismissing the strangeness of it all. He was in too good a mood to question it.

He actually felt _good_. He couldn't even remember the last time he had looked forward to the start of a day, and he decided just to go with it.

He tossed a rasher of bacon into the pan, preheated a skillet for the eggs, and set about making some toast. He noted they were running low on essentials and would probably have to make a trip to the grocery some time soon.

Ten minutes later, the bacon cooling on a plate lined with paper towels and the scrambled eggs about to set, Elena stumbled down the stairs and took in the sight of everything with huge eyes.

"What's going on?" she asked blearily. "When did you become the Barefoot Contessa?" she asked her brother, as Jeremy threw a handful of chives into the eggs.

He looked at her over his shoulder and smiled goofily. "Who?" He then shrugged and continued his whistling.

She stared. Either she was still asleep and having one of the most peculiar dreams of her young life, or Jeremy was actually _happy_. She wasn't sure which option was more terrifying.

"How'd you sleep?" her brother chirped.

She blinked and considered his question. "Pretty well," she said slowly, recognizing the truth of her statement. In fact, she couldn't remember the last time she had slept so well.

"It's Kurt," Jeremy declared. "Maybe he did a spell or something, or maybe it's just because he's here, but I know it's him. I haven't slept so well in years!"

She blinked again. Wow. Could it really be that simple? She shook her head. Probably.

Using grace neither knew he had, Jeremy dished up a plate of bacon, eggs, and toast, plopping it down in front of his sister, who inhaled sharply and began drooling.

"I put the kettle on, if you want tea."

She shook her head to clear it and then set about making a cup.

"Do you feel different?" Elena asked. "I do. I feel...happy. And it's weird."

Jeremy nodded. "I know. I mean, we buried Aunt Jenna yesterday. Things have been falling apart for months now but, today, I feel, I don't know, hopeful or something."

She set her tea to steep. "And you think it's because of Kurt?"

He shrugged. "What else has changed in our lives recently?"

She smiled, supposing his question made as much sense as anything else. "I'm glad he's here."

Jeremy beamed and nodded.

She smirked. "You really like him, don't you?"

He shrugged again. "What's not to like? I mean, hell, sis, he put his entire life on hold to come down here and take care of us. Not because he was asked, but because he wants to. He has this amazing education, money, and, well, magic, but he's here and he's going to stay because he loves us."

She blushed lightly and ducked her head, nodding.

He exhaled. "I guess I just feel, I don't know, like we're not alone anymore? Not that we were, Alaric is here and he's awesome, but..."

"Kurt's family," Elena finished. "It's nice to know it's not just the two of us."

He nodded and helped himself to some breakfast. "What time is he coming over?"

"He said nine o'clock," she replied, "so in about an hour."

He nodded again, shoved a forkful of eggs into his mouth and chewed them, thinking about things. "I wonder how everything went with Damon," he said, after swallowing.

She blew out a breath. "Yeah, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't worried."

He smirked. "Worried for which one?"

She laughed.

"Good morning, Gilberts," Alaric rasped, emerging into the room and looking like something the cat threw up.

Elena stared at him.

"Jesus, Alaric," Jeremy said. "You look like shit."

"Thanks, man."

"Didn't you sleep?" asked a concerned Elena.

"Not really," he said, not willing to announce the reason for his lack of sleep was that he couldn't stop thinking about kissing Kurt the night before.

Apparently, however, such an announcement was unnecessary. He noted the glance the siblings exchanged and repressed a sigh.

"I don't know," he said in response to the unasked question. "I don't know why I kissed him, except that it felt like the right thing to do at the time. I don't know if it was the magic or if it was..."

"His pretty face?" Jeremy supplied, snickering.

Alaric rolled his eyes.

"Kurt's hot," Elena said blandly, very curious as to where this might be going.

Alaric poured himself a cup of coffee and then chugged it down as though it were water. He knew there was no graceful way out of his, and there was no way they would allow him to dodge them much longer. Truthfully, he was surprised they had lasted this long.

"Ask your questions."

That was all the prompting Jeremy needed. "We know you're not gay, because, well, Jenna, but are you into dudes, too?"

Alaric coughed. "I'm an equal-opportunity person," he croaked out. He cleared his throat. "I'm not gay, and I don't even consider myself bi, but I've dated a few guys."

He ignored their looks of surprise. Why the hell were they surprised? They must have suspecting _something_.

Jeremy, however, was not surprised, but puzzled. He'd never even had an inkling that Alaric went both ways, which was unexpected, as he believed himself to have some measure of the man - at least enough to recognize that whatever Alaric had done with other guys, _dating_ was probably not amongst them. Still, the idea of Alaric Saltzman, mild-mannered history teacher by day and vampire slayer by night, as having a penchant for penis was somewhat startling.

"Do you like him?" Elena quietly asked.

"I don't know," Alaric honestly replied. "I don't even know him. He's very attractive and powerful, and he's kind, at least where we're concerned, but it's far too soon to be making any declarations. I just buried the woman I love."

The truth of the matter was that while he liked and trusted Kurt, he was positive there was much more to the other man than they had seen.

Elena and Jeremy flinched and looked down at their plates.

"Easy, guys," he said softly. "I know you're just caught up in everything that happened last night. I know you haven't forgotten Jenna any more than I have. I didn't take offense, and I'm sure Jenna wouldn't have, either. Relax."

"But you felt it, too, right?" Jeremy pressed. "Last night, I mean? How things changed after that ritual?"

Alaric slowly nodded. "I did. I immediately felt closer to you both, became more aware of you, and of Kurt."

"It's a little confusing," Elena admitted. "Jeremy and I have always been close, closer than most other siblings we know, but now..."

Her brother nodded. "It's different. Better, I think."

She smiled. "It's like something _opened_, and now there's _more_. More feeling and love." She frowned. "But I feel guilty, too, as though Jenna's been forgotten in all of this."

"That's not true," Alaric rushed to reply. "We haven't forgotten her. If things are getting better, it's _because_ of Jenna. It was Jenna who brought Kurt here. He probably would've come anyway, because it just seems like the kind of person he is, but it was Jenna who asked him."

"I wonder if she knew he's a witch," Jeremy mused.

"I doubt it," Alaric said. "If she had been, she probably would've asked him to come sooner."

"I'm worried," Elena said, biting her lip. "Are we asking too much of him? It seems like we're putting a lot on his shoulders."

Alaric shrugged. "I don't think he would've stepped up if he wasn't interested. I doubt he does anything he doesn't really want to do."

She nodded hesitantly. "I just don't want him to feel like we're using him. You and Jeremy had never met him, but I did, and I liked him from the first moment we were introduced. I don't want him thinking we're expecting him to make everything okay for us, or that we don't really care about him. You know, as a person, I mean."

"So tell him that," Jeremy suggested. "I get the feeling there's nothing we couldn't tell him."

Alaric stared. "You really like him."

Jeremy blushed. "He's cool, you know? He didn't come in and act all parental, ordering us around and telling us how things were going to be. He gave us choices and then let us make them. He didn't pressure us. He went out of his way to let us know he'd respect whatever we decided."

Alaric blinked. "Did I not do that?"

"No!" Jeremy said. "No, not at all. I guess I was just expecting Kurt to be a dick or something. I don't know why." He frowned. "Maybe I'm just used to thinking the worst will always happen." He shrugged. "But, instead, the best happened."

"I still feel guilty," Elena murmured. "He's been through so much, and now he feels he has to take care of us, too."

"I don't believe he feels he _has_ to," Alaric said. "He _wants_ to take care of you. That's what family does. And, yeah, he's been through a lot, but so have the rest of us. We can take care of him, too."

"I think he needs it," Jeremy said. "Didn't you get the feeling he's pretty much always been alone?"

Elena nodded. "Yeah, but I also think he's spent most of his life taking care of other people. I don't want to be another responsibility for him."

"So don't be one," Alaric said. "Kurt said last night that he plans to treat you and Jeremy like adults. Act like adults. Be responsible for yourselves and for each other. Let us know where you are, who you're with, and what you're doing. Check in with us so we won't worry. Do your homework."

He held up a hand. "I'm not saying you have to give up your childhoods, but just be more aware of yourselves and what's going on around you."

They nodded, both flushing. They knew they had been lax in doing so with Jenna.

"I just...I feel like I could tell him anything and he'd listen," Jeremy said. "He'd help, but wouldn't judge."

"I would hope you'd feel the same about me," Alaric said quietly. "I meant what I said last night. I really do love you both. I want you to feel you can come to me with anything. I want you to be able to trust me."

"We do!" Elena protested. "That's not what Jeremy meant."

Jeremy nodded.

"It's just that, ever since all of this started," she continued, "we both felt the need to protect Jenna from it. Sure, she knew almost everything, but we didn't really talk to her about what we were feeling. We didn't want her to get too close because we were scared we'd lose her like we did Mom and Dad."

"And we did," Jeremy whispered, staring down at the table.

Elena choked down a sob. "But it's different with Kurt, because he can protect himself. Against Damon, or even Klaus, Kurt has a fighting chance. He might even win."

Jeremy snorted. "He'd win." He frowned at their stare. "What? Didn't you feel his power last night?"

"_Feel _it?" repeated a confused Elena.

"What do you mean?" Alaric asked.

Jeremy bobbed his head. "Yeah, during the rituals. Heck, even when he was just moving stuff around with his finger. The air around him changed, became...charged or something, thicker. I could smell ozone." He blinked. "You didn't feel it?"

They shook their heads.

"Huh."

Alaric made a mental note to bring this up with Kurt later, but Elena summarily dismissed it. Jeremy had always been more contemplative than her, noticing things she sometimes missed. She was used to it. She'd just pay more careful attention the next time Kurt was doing magic.

"So what's the plan for today?" Alaric asked them. "I know you wanted to show Kurt around town."

Elena nodded.

"We also need to go the store," Jeremy said. "There's almost nothing in the fridge."

Elena groaned. She hated grocery shopping, so she decided to change the subject. "I know Kurt said last night that he wanted us to talk to our friends about everything, but...I don't really want to do that."

Jeremy nodded.

"Why not?" Alaric asked. "I should think Caroline and Bonnie would have a lot to say."

She rolled her eyes. "And that would be why." She shrugged. "Caroline is already fangirling him and Bonnie is suspicious of everything lately. She's become completely paranoid. I love them, but I don't want to hear it, you know? I don't want to debate it endlessly and question motives I know Kurt doesn't have."

She blushed. "Plus, they always want me to talk about Stefan, and I'm not ready to do that yet. I just want to enjoy having Kurt here."

Jeremy nodded again, silently ruing the fact that, even if he had wanted to discuss his cousin, he had no one to tell. He had no real friends, Vicki and Anna were dead, and although there was a suggestion of _feelings_ between Bonnie and himself, it wasn't solid.

"Works for me," Alaric said, before glancing down at his watch. "Elena and I should probably get ready. He's due in half an hour."

"I'll do the dishes," Jeremy offered.

Again, they stared at him, and, again, Jeremy ignored them, beginning to tidy up.

* * *

An hour later, they were still waiting for Kurt to arrive.

"I'm officially worried," Elena said. "I knew we shouldn't have let him face off with Damon last night."

Jeremy could've cared less about Damon, knowing his cousin was more than a match for the vampire, but he was also concerned. He had the feeling that Kurt was a punctual person. If he was late, and by so much time, there was probably a reason. Likely, Kurt had gotten caught up with Quinn and her baby daddy's drama.

"I don't have his phone number," he blurted, feeling stupid.

"I don't either," said an alarmed Elena.

They both looked at Alaric, who shook his head. "I didn't even think to ask for it." He stared out the window. "Look, he's probably fine, but let's just go over there to make sure."

Elena hustled to get her purse, while Jeremy grabbed his phone. They met Alaric at the door and slammed it shut behind them.

* * *

It took ten minutes to get across town to the Mystic Falls Inn; another three making small talk with the clerk, who didn't really want to release Mr. Hummel's information without his express authorization, but finally did; and five more of pounding on the door to Kurt's room.

Finally, their call was answered when the door was thrown open and they were confronted with a stunning woman who had perfect skin and long blond hair tumbling halfway down her back in tousled waves. She was wearing nothing but a slightly oversized white t-shirt which stopped where the thighs of her endless legs began and had slipped off one shoulder.

It read _Dolphins Do It Better_.

Alaric and Jeremy were helpless but to stare.

She rubbed her eyes and pouted. "Wow. I never knew room service took three people to deliver breakfast." She blinked. "Shouldn't you be wearing uniforms?"

They stared.

She frowned. "Wait. I didn't call room service." Her frown deepened. "Not more telepaths!" she whined.

"Uh..." Alaric began.

Jeremy's eyes were bulging.

"I'm Elena Gilbert," the girl snapped. "This is my brother, Jeremy, and our guardian, Alaric Saltzman. Is Kurt here?"

Brittany beamed. "Oh! You're Kurty's cousins and the hot guy he's sharing them with!"

Alaric's mouth dropped open.

Elena rolled her eyes. "Yes. Is Kurt here? Is he okay?"

Brittany tugged a lock of hair. "Gosh, you heard his nightmare, too? Wasn't it scary?"

"Nightmare?" Alaric asked, suddenly all business. "He had a nightmare? Does he have them often?"

Brittany nodded sadly and looked down at the floor. "Ever since Sammy died." She sighed. "He's inside. He's still sleeping."

She stood to the side and allowed them to enter. She certainly wasn't going to invite them. Just because they claimed to be Kurt's family didn't mean they actually were, and Kurt's wards would alert her if they were vampires. If they were, she'd have all kinds of fun!

"Who are you?" Elena demanded.

Huh. Not vampires, Brittany realized, just brats. Shucks.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "I'm Brittany S. Pierce, Kurty's _bestest_ best friend."

For some reason, Elena was set on edge, and she didn't understand why. She wanted to ask Brittany what Santana and Quinn would think about her declaration as _bestest friend_. She felt the need to challenge this woman, and it confused her.

"Is Kurt all right?" asked a concerned Jeremy, after recovering his wits. "He was supposed to be at the house an hour ago."

Brittany blinked. "He's sleeping." she repeated, shrugging helplessly. "I'm sorry he's late, but better late than pregnant."

They gaped at her.

"He didn't tell me he had plans or I would've woken him," she said apologetically. "Last night was draining, however, so when I woke up and saw he was still sleeping, I just let him continue."

"Did Damon do something?" asked a suspicious Alaric.

"Who's Damon?" she asked. "The vampire?"

They nodded.

She waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, I didn't know his name. Kurty just called him Sloping Forehead." She ignored their surprised and choked laughter. "No, he and Sloping Forehead had a conversation, and then Kurty threw Sloping Forehead out of the room and down the stairs."

Jeremy didn't know until this moment that it was possible for his mood to get even better. It did.

_Threw. Damon. Down the stairs_.

He would've paid to see it. Maybe he could ask Kurt later to do it again, some kind of recreation or something.

"Damon didn't cause a problem?" Alaric demanded. Damon _not_ causing a problem was extremely out of character and potentially dangerous.

Brittany shrugged. "I don't know. Kurty wasn't too concerned about him. I mean, even if Sloping Forehead _had _caused a problem, well, you've _met_ Kurty, right?"

Jeremy snickered.

"Did something happen after Damon left?" Elena softly asked.

Brittany's eyes dimmed. "Kurty was very sad," she whispered. "He misses Sam so much." She shook her head. "It's not fair."

"No, it's not," Elena agreed, sighing. "Do you know if he called Quinn?"

Brittany scowled. "Quinn yelled at him for not calling her sooner about the vampire situation. They had both suspected it was vampires prior to Kurt's arrival, but when she hadn't heard from him, she thought it was only a minor irritation, like gonorrhea or one of the Jenner sisters. Plus, she was upset about Shelby, Puck, and Beth, so she was understandably high-strung."

"Who's Puck?" Alaric asked.

"Noah Puckerman," Brittany promptly replied. "Everyone calls him Puck but Kurt and Rachel. Puck hates that Rachel calls him by his given name. He really only allows Kurt to do it."

Alaric grimaced.

Brittany caught the look and was intrigued. It furthered her belief about what had transpired during last night's spell.

"Then Quinn tried to get Kurt to take custody of Beth," she added.

"What!" the others thundered.

She shushed them. "Of course he said no, but you have to understand that Kurty is the only person Quinn trusts absolutely. She trusts a few others, like Finn, but not like she does Kurt. She's unable to care for Beth the way the girl needs, so she wanted her with Kurt."

"Kurt said no?" Jeremy asked.

She nodded. "He said it wouldn't be fair to you or your sister, and he wasn't about to bring a child to Mystic Falls." She leaned over. "Also, he really didn't want to do it," she confided.

"So what will happen to the kid?" Alaric asked.

"Kurt convinced Rachel and Finn to take custody," Brittany said. "After all, Beth is technically Rachel's sister. Santana will work out the details." She looked down. "I should probably put on some pants."

She then skipped off to do just that, returning a moment later. They noticed she was wearing Kurt's pants, which fit exceedingly well. Elena thought this was totally unfair.

"Kurty's still sleeping," Brittany announced to no one in particular, gathering her hair into a ponytail.

Elena, Alaric, and Jeremy exchanged a look.

"Maybe we should just let him sleep," Jeremy suggested.

"If he had nightmares all night, he probably needs the rest," Elena agreed.

Alaric nodded, but looked depressed.

"What were your plans?" Brittany asked.

Jeremy shrugged. "Mostly just showing him around town."

She brightened. "That sounds like fun! Can I come, too?"

"Sure, I guess," said an unenthusiastic Elena. She then frowned. What the hell was her problem? This woman was arguably Kurt's best friend. Why was she being such a bitch to her?

"Yay! Let's go wake him up!"

She then proceeded to push them into the bedroom, where they stood on the threshold and watched as Brittany skittered past them, bounded onto the bed, snuggled down against Kurt, and kissed him awake.

"Is this happening?" Elena asked.

"Looks like," Jeremy muttered.

Kurt kissed back, cracked open an eye, and smiled. "Hello, Sweetness. It's early."

"No, it's not," Brittany said. "You're late! Your kids and their other dad are here."

Rather than take offense, Elena and Jeremy burst out laughing. Their laughter only increased when Kurt grumbled and pushed Brittany off of him. He threw off the covers and got out of the bed resentfully. The laughter abruptly ceased.

Kurt stood there wearing the tiniest pair of boxer briefs in existence and nothing else.

Elena has seen amazingly hot guys without their clothes. Matt, Tyler, Damon, and Stefan were all impressive members of the male species. Or vampire species. Whatever. Hell, even though she didn't like to think about it, and she would certainly never admit it, her own brother was a stud.

That aside, Kurt's body was flawless. His musculature was in no way comparable to the other men she had just considered, but he was completely toned from head to toe. His legs looked especially powerful and appeared endless. His waist was even smaller than she had imagined and his stomach was flat with rippling abdominal muscles that were present, but not overdeveloped.

He was hot.

Jeremy looked a little surprised, but otherwise unruffled. He was used to sharing locker rooms with guys, and Kurt was just another guy to him. Granted, Kurt looked better than Jeremy had expected. He had supposed Kurt was somewhat scrawny; despite his height, he looked petite.

Alaric stared.

Kurt yawned, stretching his arms over his head and doing a bend which saw his back align perfectly parallel to the floor. After that amazing display of flexibility, Kurt belched, absently scratched his stomach, and adjusted his package.

Elena raised a brow. Apparently, at his core, Kurt was very much a _guy_.

He then blinked and looked over at his family.

"Oh, hey," he said blearily, with a smile on his face. "I apologize for being late. I had a rather rough night and was having a bit of a lie-in." He frowned. "You were worried," he said softly. "I'm sorry. That wasn't my intention."

"It's okay," Jeremy said cheerfully. "We're just glad you're all right and didn't have any trouble with Sloping Forehead."

Kurt snorted and exchanged a bemused look with Brittany.

"You're in your underwear," Brittany noted.

Kurt blinked again and looked down at himself. "So it would appear." He turned to the others. "I'm so used to living my own, or with Sam, that I didn't give it a second thought. Does it make you uncomfortable?"

"No," Jeremy said, shrugging.

Elena shook her head. She'd seen Alaric and Jeremy in similar situations. It didn't bother her.

Kurt's eyes at last fell on Alaric, who appeared to be having some difficulty expressing himself. He decided to save them both from the awkwardness of the moment and announced his intention to shower. Brittany trailed after him, only to whine and pout when he declared he would be bathing alone.

"We've taken showers together before, Kurty," she groused.

Elena, Jeremy, and Alaric's eyes widened to the size of salad plates.

"At the _beach_, honey," Kurt said gently.

"And the locker room," she reminded him. "There was lots of nudity there."

He shrugged. "True enough, but not today."

She crossed her arms and sulked. "Fine, but I'm coming with you all later."

He beamed at her and kissed her nose. "Yay."

He strolled across the room, entered the bathroom, and shut the door behind him. Elena didn't even bother to pretend she wasn't checking out her own cousin. Alaric coughed and discreetly looked away, much to Jeremy's vast amusement.

Brittany heaved a dreamy sigh. "Even after all these years, Kurty still has the best ass I've ever seen."

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Kurt emerged from his room freshly-scrubbed and ready to go wherever the day led them. Dressed in immaculately pressed chinos, a starched white oxford with the sleeves rolled up, and polished black loafers, he looked at once casual but elegant.

Elena peered more closely and could tell the clothes had not been tailored, but created specifically for him; they fit that well. Overall, the look was classy and casual, yet silently screamed _money_.

Kurt smiled and strode toward them, grabbing his phone and keys off the stand and dropping them into his camel messenger bag. "So what are we doing?"

"We just thought we'd show you around town," Jeremy said, "and then hit up the grocery store. We're totally out of food."

Kurt nodded and turned toward the door, Brittany skipping gaily after him. She had changed, inexplicably, into a tennis outfit that was blindingly white, topped off with a pair of Keds decorated with unicorns. She and Kurt looked about sixteen years old, but radiated confidence and power.

"Must be the magic," Alaric murmured.

"Wrong!" Brittany cheerfully screeched. "We're just awesome like that."

Alaric blinked and followed the others out the door.

* * *

Alaric had parked next to Kurt's Navigator, the keys for which Kurt tossed at Jeremy, who caught them reflexively and then stared down at them in his hand as though he had no idea what they were.

"You're driving," Kurt said.

Jeremy stared.

Kurt raised a brow. "You do know how to drive, yes?"

Jeremy nodded dumbly.

Kurt shrugged a shoulder. "So drive. Elena and Brittany will be with you."

Jeremy furrowed his brow. "What about you?"

"I'm riding with Alaric."

Jeremy and Elena exchanged a look.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Please. Yes, the two of us will be speaking with you later, but don't assume you understand what's happening here, because I guarantee you don't. Also, don't bother trying to pump Brittany for information, because she will always keep my secrets."

Brittany nodded happily.

He turned to his eldest cousin. "Elena, don't worry too much about your shifting emotions right now. The ritual last night altered our feelings for each other somewhat, so if you're experiencing some resentment at Brittany's presence, that's why. You're the singular female of our family now, so you will have some discomfort when another woman inserts herself into our group. It's all very alpha female.

"It's completely understandable and Brittany doesn't hold it against you. It will take some time for you to work these new emotions out, but you'll get there." He paused. "You can expect the same to happen with Caroline and Bonnie."

Elena released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding and shot a sorrowful look at Brittany, who waved her off.

"It's really no problem," Brittany said earnestly. "Like Kurty said, it's to be expected, and I won't take any offense. I think it's good that you want to protect your family!"

Elena smiled, this time more genuinely than she had upstairs, and murmured her thanks. She shoved Jeremy's shoulder to get him moving, and the three of them piled into the Navigator. Once behind the wheel, Jeremy suddenly became cognizant that he was actually about to operate a motor vehicle and was excited. Still, he was careful and used the appropriate signals and cautions as he pulled out of the space.

Elena rolled down the window. "We'll meet you in the square!" she shouted.

Kurt and Alaric nodded before turning to regard one another.

"Is that what's happening to me?" Alaric softly asked.

Kurt fidgeted. "In a sense," he said slowly and quietly. He sighed. "I...I don't want you to be angry with me."

Alaric shook his head. "I'm not. I'm confused, and a little concerned, but not angry. We're the ones who pushed you to do the ritual, Kurt. I just want to understand what it means."

Kurt blushed and stared down at the pavement. "When the ritual was performed, I became the _paterfamilias_." He raised his gaze. "Do you understand?"

Alaric nodded. "You're the acknowledged head of the family. It's not surprising."

Kurt shook his head. "But I'm not, not really. I don't want you to feel as though we're not equals, because I absolutely consider us to be."

Alaric was warmed by the words.

"The ritual has to be performed by a witch," Kurt continued, "and because it requires magic, the family will bind to the most powerful magical person in the circle."

Alaric nodded. "Which was you."

Kurt nodded in kind and then exhaled. "But there's more."

"Okay."

"The ritual recognized you as a co-parent, Alaric," Kurt said nervously.

Alaric was bemused. "So, what, I'm the mother?"

Kurt swallowed heavily. "In a manner of speaking, yes. If something were to happen to me, the bonds we formed wouldn't simply disappear, but be transferred to you."

Alaric's eyes widened. "Even though I'm not a witch?"

"Yes, because magic is only required to perform the ritual, not to keep it going."

Alaric blinked. "Feedback loops," he muttered.

Kurt nodded. "Exactly. There's a price to pay for what I did, and, unfortunately, you're the one paying it."

"How so?"

"Well," Kurt began, his voice rising slightly in pitch, "usually in a family, there is some measure of...feeling...between the parents."

Alaric's mouth fell open. "You mean..." he trailed off. "I see."

"Do you?" Kurt beseeched. He shook his head miserably and wrung his hands. "I am _so_ sorry. At the culmination of the ritual, when you kissed me, you were...compelled, for lack of a better term, to do so. You were literally pushed by the magic that was released to form a bond with me on a level separate from the ones formed among you, Elena, and Jeremy."

"But you're not the one who compelled me, right?" Alaric asked, needing the clarification.

Kurt shook his head frantically. "Absolutely not! I would never, ever do that to you, I swear!"

Alaric gently placed a hand on Kurt's shoulder. "I believe you, Kurt. I'm not angry."

"Well, I am," Kurt mumbled. "I feel like I took your choice away from you."

Alaric shook his head. "I _don't_ feel that way at all. Whatever the magic may or may not have done, I kissed you because I wanted to, Kurt, and for no other reason."

Kurt cocked his head and blinked, puzzlement plain on his face. "Huh?"

Alaric grinned. "When you said you read only my surface thoughts last night, you weren't exaggerating, were you?" He shook his head. "If you had looked deeper, you would have seen that I'm attracted to both men and women."

Kurt stared. "And...and...you're attracted to _me_?" he exclaimed, his voice rising at the end and filled with disbelief.

Alaric winced. "I'm making you uncomfortable."

"No," Kurt said quickly, before taking a breath and slowly releasing it, his mind racing. "No, you're not, but I need you to understand that the feelings you're having may not be entirely your own."

Alaric narrowed his eyes. "When I kissed you, what was that light that erupted between us?"

At Kurt's harsh flinch, Alaric knew he had hit the nail right on the head.

"It...it..."

"What was it, Kurt?" Alaric gently coaxed.

Kurt averted his eyes. "It signaled that there exists between us the potential to form a deeper bond, something beyond being Jeremy and Elena's parents," he quietly admitted.

"Will the magic force us to do that?"

Kurt was horrified. "No! I didn't even...I mean, I had no idea..."

"You didn't know that potential existed."

Kurt nodded, still refusing to meet Alaric's gaze.

"And you don't want it to exist."

Kurt opened and closed his mouth several times. "Sam..." he finally croaked.

Alaric studied him for a very long time before finally shaking his head. "I love Jenna," he said. "We may have even gotten married one day. I know that I will _always _love her." Again he shook his head. "That said, I don't think I have ever, in my life, experienced love for someone the way you have for Sam. It is...it's truly awesome."

Kurt closed his eyes, but the tears still ran down his face.

Alaric said nothing, figuring it best to allow Kurt to work this out for himself.

"I've never...Sam was it for me," Kurt whispered, shaking his head. "I've never wanted anyone else. I never imagined my life without him in it. Every day I wake up and I turn in the bed to look at him, and every day I'm reminded that he's not there, that he never will be again." His eyes turned distant and bereft. "And I grieve," he said dully. "Again."

Finally, he was able to meet Alaric's eyes, which were so filled with sadness, it almost stole his breath.

"I know for a fact that the afterlife exists. I know that I will be reunited with Sam one day." He blinked rapidly. "But it doesn't help. I don't know if I could ever love someone the way I loved Sam."

"Why would you feel you had to?" Alaric asked. "You know I was married to Isobel, and I loved her beyond reason. When she let Damon turn her..."

"I'm sorry, _what_?" Kurt exploded.

Alaric winced. "Yeah. She wanted to be turned, and she sought out a vampire to do it. She stumbled across Damon."

Kurt help up a hand. "Wait. So you're telling me that Damon has killed you and Jeremy, killed and turned Isobel and Caroline, and he also killed Lexi?" He curled a lip and stared at a point beyond Alaric. "This calls for further punishment."

Alaric was stunned Kurt even knew Lexi; he himself had only heard of her in passing. He wondered if she was among the vampires whom Kurt had earlier referenced when he made mention of knowing vampires like Damon and Stefan.

"Further punishment?" he pressed.

Kurt waved a hand. "I metaphorically slapped him around last night and placed an impotence curse on him, but I think even more cursing is required."

Alaric shook his head to clear it. Truthfully, at this point, Damon wasn't even registering on his radar. Besides, he figured Damon was owed for some of the pain and suffering he had caused. Alaric himself was much more interested in whatever might happen between he and Kurt.

"As I was saying," he began, snapping Kurt out of his vengeful thoughts, "I loved Isobel enough to marry her. I planned on having a family with her. She left me, and I don't know if I ever truly got over that, even after I found Jenna. I loved her, too. I still do, and I love her in a way I never did Isobel." He shrugged. "I don't believe you can love someone in the exact way you love another."

Kurt nodded absently, but didn't comment.

"Is this thing between us, this potential, going to cause problems with us living together?" Alaric asked.

"I sincerely hope not." Kurt blushed. "I would be lying if I said I didn't find you incredibly attractive," he whispered, "but I'm not ready, Alaric. I don't know if I ever will be."

Alaric nodded. "That's okay. I just lost Jenna. I'm not ready for anything, either." He quirked a brow. "Still, it's interesting, isn't it? That we received such a magical assist?" He moved forward, not entirely of his own volition, and gently caressed Kurt's cheek.

Kurt held his breath, but didn't make a move to stop him.

"All I can say," Kurt finally murmured, "is that I look forward to getting to know you better. I'm thankful that you're here, that you're staying, and that I'm going to be raising the children with you."

Alaric could sense the truthfulness of the words, and, at this point, they really were enough for him. "If nothing more happens between us, that's fine, Kurt. I'm not going to push you, and I know you won't push me. I respect that. I appreciate that." He paused. "Do you think there's a chance something might one day happen?"

"I've learned that everything in this life happens for a reason," Kurt breathed, "and so there is probably a reason for this." He tilted his head and pressed more tightly against Alaric's hand. "This doesn't always happen, this potential of which I spoke. For whatever reason, magic itself has sensed a connection between us and revealed it can be deepened, if we so choose."

"So it won't force us," Alaric asked again, wanting to be absolutely clear on this point.

"No," Kurt said. "If nothing happens, then nothing happens. It's completely our decision."

"Then we'll just take things as they come," Alaric whispered.

His palm burned with the heat pouring off Kurt's skin, his blood racing with the suppressed passion he could feel thrumming in his fingers.

"It's been so long," Kurt whispered. "My body wants you, Alaric. It wants to do obscene things to you." He pressed his lips against Alaric's palm.

Alaric's nostrils flared, his eyes shining as he took another step forward.

"But we have to _think_," Kurt added, his voice gaining strength. "This isn't just about us. We have two children now."

Alaric's eyes widened to the size of small moons before he began to chortle. "Two kids, and we never even had a honeymoon."

Kurt blushed and then started to snicker. Soon, the moment between them passed as all moments do.

"But it's possible..."

Kurt nodded. "Maybe one day, when we're both ready, _really_ ready, for everything it would entail."

Alaric licked his lips and leaned over. "I'm hard for you," he growled in Kurt's ear.

Kurt closed his eyes and shuddered. "This...is going to be more difficult than I thought."

"Are you hard for me? Do I make you hard, Kurt?"

Kurt glared at him. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because I need to know," Alaric said, just as sharply. "I need to know that I'm not alone in feeling what I feel, that my desire for you is returned and not just resultant of some spell. Do you want me? Say it."

"Yes!" Kurt exploded, choking back an enraged and resentful sob. "Yes, I want you. I want many things, Alaric, but that doesn't mean I'm ready for them."

Alaric immediately backed off, holding up his hands in surrender. "Like I said, that's okay. It really is. I'm not going to push you. I'm not going to force you into anything. If something happens, then it was meant to happen." His eyes softened. "I'm not ready, either, Kurt, but when I am, it would be nice to know that someone - that _you_ - might be there waiting for me."

"I can't make you any promises, Alaric," Kurt said, loving the way the man's name rolled off his tongue, "but when it's time, I believe I'd like to try." He blinked. "As long as we agree that, if it doesn't work out, we won't let it affect the kids."

Alaric nodded, pleased that Kurt's priority was Elena and Jeremy, just as his own was. "Absolutely." He leered. "Just know I might spy on you when you're in the shower."

Kurt narrowed his eyes and frowned. Two could play this game, and he always played to win. Finn and Noah had both well learned that difficult lesson.

He raised a brow. "Acceptable, as long as you understand that, when I jack off, I might just scream your name. Of course, it would be muffled, as I would be imagining your dick in my mouth."

Alaric flushed heavily and began panting. "Damn cocktease," he gasped.

Kurt smirked. "Don't let your sweet mouth write checks that tight ass of yours can't cash."

Alaric groaned and ran a hand through his hair, causing it to stand on end in a rather adorable manner. "Jesus. I know we're not there yet, that all of this is, at this point, theoretical, but I am really fucking horny right now."

Kurt nodded. "Part of that actually _is_ a result of the ritual. You have to remember that, in ancient times, family was everything. The survival of the family unit depended on adding new members to the clan."

Alaric gaped. "You mean the ritual will push us to...procreate?"

"No," Kurt replied, shaking his head, "and, obviously, we're unable to do that. However, it will put us...in the mood, so to speak, more often than might be our normal experience. It won't force us to act on it, but our libidos will increase, especially when we're in each other's vicinities."

Alaric rolled his eyes. "So I might as well get used to the fact that I'll be having blueballs for the foreseeable future, and we'll probably have to use the kids as human shields."

"Yep."


	12. First Wave

As they rode over to the square, Kurt placed a quick call to Santana just to follow-up on last night's events. She was already in contact with Shelby's lawyer about placing Beth with Rachel and Finn. Incredibly, Shelby hadn't left any kind of will, which Kurt thought supremely irresponsible.

Of course, he knew he had little room to talk. He hadn't updated his own since before Sam's death; in fact, since Cosette was nothing but a gleam in her parents' eyes. As it stood now, Sam was still named the primary beneficiary, and bequests were left to Finn, Rachel, and any theoretical children they might have, as well as to Stacy and Stevie Evans, Sam's brother and sister.

He repressed a sigh. He owed Savannah a call. He wasn't sure how he was going to explain his sudden move. Oh, he knew she would understand about Jeremy and Elena, but Alaric was an altogether different matter. It wasn't as though he'd be able to omit the man from his story, and Savannah had an uncanny ability to ferret out nonsense. She easily be able to tell he was attempting to hide something.

At this point, Kurt wasn't sure what, exactly, he thought he was hiding, other than a sudden fascination with a man whose name he had known for only about twenty-four hours. Still, that was enough. As much as she had adored Sam, Savannah was, for some reason, anxious for Kurt to move on with his life, to settle down, as if seeing Kurt settled would somehow mitigate the fact Sam was no longer alive to do it with him.

Kurt closed his eyes tightly and willed away thoughts of Sam, of his strong arms and his wonderful lips and how he had made Kurt feel he was the most important person in the world. It didn't really work.

He instead asked about Noah's case, and Santana screamed at him for not warning her about Alicia Florrick, who, according to Santana, was _Alicia fucking Florrick, Rainbow!_ He had no idea how she would react when Megan Hunt arrived. He'd have to mute his phone.

He neglected to mention Brittany's presence, but was sure Santana was nevertheless aware of it. Brittany and Santana hadn't spoken in years, but always knew where the other was, like some kind of mystical, two-way Lojack system.

Asking her to keep him updated, Santana told him to go fuck himself and to call her back when he was alone, because she wasn't having important conversations when some Urban Cowboy was sitting right next to him. He wanted to bang his head on the dashboard as he wondered how much she knew about him and Alaric, and how she had ascertained it so quickly.

Kurt thought being a witch was pretty neat, but having witch friends sometimes really put a damper on the experience.

He hung up, glared at his phone, and then shoved it in his pocket, pouting slightly. He sensed that Alaric wanted to talk to him about something, but didn't know how to approach the subject. To compensate, Kurt brought up his idea about giving Jeremy the Navigator.

Alaric was momentarily surprised, but only because he had never before thought of Jeremy needing a car. He knew better than to ask about Santana. He planned on heeding Kurt's warnings about the girl. If and when they ever met, he would use Kurt as a human shield. Or magical shield. Whatever. Something that involved his front pressed against Kurt's back.

"There were some instances in which that truck saved my life," Kurt said quietly as he stared out the window. "Sometimes you just need to get away, even if only for a few hours, to gain some perspective." He sighed. "I wouldn't like being cooped up in a house all the time, and the streets aren't safe to walk at night."

Alaric agreed, nodding. "I think it's a good idea, and thanks for checking with me."

Kurt smiled.

"What are you going to do about a car, though?" Alaric asked.

Kurt shrugged. "Get something new, I guess. The Navigator is lovely, but it's always been too large for me. I'd like something less flashy and a little more practical." He hesitated. "Would you go with me? When I decide to buy a car, I mean? I've never done it before."

Alaric shot him a warm grin. "Sure."

A few minutes passed, Kurt humming along softly with the radio. Alaric was struck by just how much he wanted to hear Kurt sing. He had checked out the YouTube videos last night, and he still couldn't help but marvel over what Kurt could do with his voice. As Kurt had studied music in college, Alaric gathered his voice was even better now. He knew not to press the issue, however, remembering Kurt telling them he hadn't sung since Sam died.

As much as he respected Kurt's relationship with Sam, he didn't want it to color their every moment together.

"May I ask a question?"

"Of course," Kurt said.

"How did Brittany get here so quickly? I thought you said she lived in Seattle."

Kurt nodded. "She does. One of her powers, however, is mimicry. She can channel the powers of other witches. Teleportation is just an advanced form of telekinesis, so she borrowed my power, so to speak."

Alaric shook his head to clear it, unable even to posit that. "Did you call her?"

Kurt smiled. "So to speak."

Alaric's mouth fell open. "You contacted her telepathically? Across the _country_? And she _heard_ you?"

Kurt nodded. "As I've said, my powers are quite strong."

Alaric noted Kurt wasn't bragging, but merely stating a fact. He wondered to himself what Kurt honestly thought about his powers, if he liked having them, if magic made him happy or whether or not it was a burden.

"It's always been exceptionally easy for me to communicate with Brittany," Kurt added. "We've known each other since childhood, and have always been extremely close, even when we weren't actively friends. She's..." he trailed off, frowning, unsure how to qualify their relationship or what Brittany meant to him.

"You're obviously very close," Alaric prompted.

Kurt nodded again. "Brittany is...if I were straight, I would have married Brittany as soon as we could've found a justice of the peace."

Alaric's eyes widened. "So...she's like your wife?"

"It goes beyond that," Kurt said. "I can't even explain it, really. Brittany is my other half. She's a part of me. She mourns Sam only slightly less than I do. I wouldn't know how to live in a world without Brittany Pierce in it."

"Is she in love with you?" asked an uncomfortable Alaric.

"No," Kurt said, "but she loves me, and I love her. I will love her until the day I day and for the eternity that comes after that. If anything ever happened to her, outside of natural causes, I honestly don't know what I would do." He shrugged. "Probably reduce the planet to a cinder."

Alaric laughed.

Kurt didn't.

Alaric shook himself. "Wow." He exhaled. "Would she do that for you?"

Kurt slowly turned toward Alaric, his face quite serious. "I am more powerful than Brittany, but she is far more dangerous."

Alaric's eyes bulged.

"Don't let her demeanor fool you," Kurt warned. "People have learned the hard way not to underestimate her."

Alaric took that for what it was, silently deciding he never wanted Brittany Pierce angry with him.

"What's on your mind?" Kurt asked. "Other than Brittany, I mean."

Alaric hesitated for a moment, and then shook his head. "Earlier, at the house, Jeremy said something that took me by surprise. He said that he could feel your power last night, not only during the ritual, but whenever you used magic."

Kurt's brows raised. "Interesting," he said quietly and seemingly to himself, obviously pondering the issue. After a few moments, he cleared his throat. "I can think of two possible explanations."

Alaric nodded in encouragement.

"As Jeremy is Miranda's son and magic exists within our family, it's possible Jeremy has inherited some ability. Not necessarily witchcraft, of course, but something else, such as a sixth sense or some attunement to the magic around him."

Alaric nodded again, more slowly. "I can see that. The other explanation?"

Kurt bit his lip. "When Jeremy...died, he came back with a little something extra."

Alaric blinked. Harshly.

"I don't know if it would be the same for you," Kurt quickly added. "Magic doesn't work the same way on any two given people." He frowned. "I think what's more likely is the first hypothesis. Jeremy is probably some kind of sensitive. A sensitive is what we call someone who can feel the ambient magic around them but has no magic of their own."

"Makes sense," Alaric said.

"Or it could be a combination of both," Kurt continued. "Perhaps Jeremy always had the potential to be a sensitive, but it wasn't activated until after his resurrection." He nodded to himself. "That's actually probably much more likely." He paused. "Usually, sensitives have some paranormal ability, even if they're not supernatural themselves."

"You mean aside from sensing magic?"

Kurt nodded. "Sensitives are mundanely known as psychics. If Jeremy is a sensitive, he may develop other abilities, such as clairvoyance or mediumship."

Alaric raised a brow. "You mean he might be able to speak with the dead?"

"Exactly." He turned to face Alaric. "I'd prefer it if we just explained he's probably a sensitive. I don't know Jeremy well enough to posit how he would handle having such abilities. He might want them or he might not. I don't think there's a point in placing a burden on him which might never be actualized."

Alaric sighed. "Yeah, you're probably right."

Kurt smirked. "I usually am."

Alaric rolled his eyes.

They sat in silence for the rest of the drive and Alaric finally pulled into the square, next to Kurt's truck.

"Still hard?" Kurt asked blithely.

Shocked but nevertheless intrigued, Alaric glared at him. "I am now." He sneered. "Thanks so much."

Kurt beamed. "It's what I do," he chirped, before hopping out of the car and joining a waiting Brittany.

Alaric banged his head on the steering wheel, but took the time to notice Kurt's pert little ass strutting toward the others.

* * *

"She knows you're here," Kurt said quietly.

Brittany nodded. "Of course she does. She's Santana."

"Do you want to do anything about it?"

"Not really," Brittany replied, giving a mild shrug. "We're not at that place yet. Like I told you last night, one day we will be, but not yet."

Kurt nodded. He knew it wasn't his business. He doubted he would ever know what, precisely, had driven them apart, but, like Brittany, he had faith they would one day find each other again.

"How's Puck?"

Elena and Jeremy, Alaric just behind them, leaned in.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Living up to his name and causing as much trouble as possible. They've added charges of resisting arrest and assaulting a police officer. Santana is sure she can get them dismissed by pleading some sob story about a bereaved father, etcetera." He pursed his lips and shook his head. "I swear, Noah is his own worst enemy."

Brittany blinked. "Well, _duh_, Kurty."

His mouth fell open and then he began snickering. After all, what defense could he offer to that very real truth?

"So, are you two okay?" Elena asked Kurt and Alaric.

"Of course," Kurt smoothly said.

Jeremy smirked. "Are you going steady now?"

Alaric rolled his eyes.

"Are you and Bonnie?" Kurt shot back at his cousin.

Jeremy reddened and fell silent, which caused Elena to burst out laughing. As much as she didn't want to think of her brother and her best friend together in that way, she also couldn't help but find it adorable. She knew that had that question been posed to Bonnie, she would have reacted in a similar way. Besides, Elena desperately wanted both of them to be happy.

Alaric decided to dispense with pretense altogether. "Kurt knows I like him."

Brittany, Elena, and Jeremy stared at him. Alaric just shrugged. He also felt pretty proud of himself for putting Kurt on the spot and thus returning the favor.

Kurt briefly glared and Alaric couldn't help but get a little turned on by it. To have someone who looked like Kurt, who was as powerful as Kurt was, focus all of his attention on him, even if it was slightly angry, was somewhat thrilling.

Alaric wondered if he was a masochist, deciding it might not be too terrible were it true. Well, at least with Kurt. He didn't want to posit what it meant about his semi-friendship with Damon.

"It's something that's on the table," Kurt said slowly to his eager cousins, "but nothing is going to happen in the immediate future, so calm down."

"Don't hurt Alaric," Elena said vehemently.

Alaric was taken aback, but warmed, by her defense.

"I wouldn't," Kurt said softly. His eyes narrowed. "But you should understand, Elena, that while you may not be able to control to whom you're physically attracted, that doesn't mean that you should ignore common sense."

Elena's eyes widened, thoughts immediately going to Damon, even as she wondered what Kurt suspected about her and the vampire. She knew he was right, of course, and she also knew he would never hurt Alaric.

It was difficult to relate to him. Yes, they were family, and though Kurt wasn't much older than her, it was just enough for her to be reminded that he was an adult, that he had lived more in his short life than she ever had or likely ever would.

He held up a hand. "Don't apologize. I like that you're protective of Alaric. I like that you didn't hesitate to warn me." He paused. "I'm not ready for a relationship, and neither is Alaric. We did, however, have a discussion. Yes, we're attracted to one another. Yes, we know the interest is mutual. Yes, something may very well happen in the future. However, I'm still in love with Sam. Alaric is still in love with Jenna. We're much more concerned with doing our best to take care of you and Jeremy."

Elena blushed slightly, happy that Kurt wasn't angry with her. In point of fact, had Alaric made the same argument, she would have threatened him not to hurt Kurt. She was also touched that she was one of their primary concerns. Looking quickly at her brother, she knew Jeremy felt the same.

"You two would look really hot all naked and sweaty," Brittany observed, eyes darting between Kurt and Alaric.

Alaric blushed, Elena's blush deepened, Jeremy smirked, and Kurt rolled his eyes.

"When I have not looked hot?"

Brittany frowned. "Honestly? Never."

Kurt nodded. He turned toward his family. "So what are we doing first?"

Elena and Jeremy opted to give Kurt and Brittany a brief tour of Mystic Falls, starting with the square. Kurt was already familiar with the police station and wanted to go in and say hello to Elizabeth.

They entered the building and were immediately sighted by the gossipy Abby, who proceeded to stare and Kurt and lick her chops. Alaric and Brittany were both offended, Jeremy thought it was hysterical, and Elena began lecturing the girl, who had been a few years ahead of her in school.

Just as Elena's voice turned strident, Liz Forbes poked her head out of her office, opened her mouth to remind her secretary once again just who was in charge, saw Kurt, and smiled.

"Hello, Kurt!" Liz said cheerfully. She nodded a greeting to Elena and Jeremy, both of whom looked much better than they had at the funeral the previous day. She also noted that Kurt was flanked y two others. On one side stood Alaric Saltzman, who was glaring at Abby and all but standing on top of Kurt - and wasn't _that_ interesting? - and on the other stood a young blond woman who looked eerily like her own Caroline.

"Hello, Elizabeth," Kurt replied, smiling warmly. "I was hoping I might have a few moments, if now is a good time."

Liz nodded. "Of course," she said, trying and failing to rip her attention away from the blond.

"Oh!" Kurt exclaimed. "Please allow me to introduce my best friend, Brittany Pierce. Brittany, this is Elizabeth Forbes, the Sheriff of Mystic Falls."

Brittany waved gaily and chirped a hello.

Liz offered a kind greeting and turned to Kurt. "Would you like to step into my office?"

Kurt nodded. "Thank you." He turned toward the others. "This will just take a few moments. I can catch up with you."

"We'll wait here," Alaric said harshly, still glaring at Abby.

"All right," Kurt said slowly, crossing the room and entering the office. Liz quickly followed and shut the door behind her.

Kurt waited until she was seated before taking his offered seat. "I just wanted to thank you again for making time for me yesterday, and for being so kind at the funeral." He paused. "It was more difficult than I had anticipated."

Liz made a sympathetic noise. "How is everything going, if you don't mind me asking?"

Kurt smiled. "Very well, despite the circumstances. Jeremy and Elena have agreed to let me become their guardian."

Truthfully, Liz was incredibly relieved. She liked Alaric, though she didn't know him well, but felt that Kurt would be a stable presence both children desperately needed.

"It's rather odd," Kurt continued. "Elena and I had met before, and she's been nothing but welcoming, but I have to say that, for whatever reason, I feel much closer to Jeremy."

Liz nodded. "I'm not surprised. Jeremy is a good boy, but Elena has always been the town sweetheart, so to speak. I've always believed he's felt overshadowed by her, and he's probably not wrong to feel that way. I'm sure knowing that you're here as much for him as for his sister means the world to him." She bit her lip. "I know that, for a while, he was hanging around with a group of kids who could best be described as troublesome," she said carefully.

Kurt merely nodded. "I'm aware, and that won't be continuing." He waved a hand. "I think that has less to do with me and more to do with Bonnie."

Liz raised a brow.

Kurt grinned. "You didn't know?"

She shook her head. "Caroline, as talkative as she is, doesn't discuss her friends' personal lives."

"She obviously inherited her mother's integrity."

Liz blushed slightly, wondering what it was about this young man that made her feel a good twenty years younger. She cleared her throat. "And Alaric?"

Kurt nodded. "We've agreed to look after the children together. I think it's the best possible resolution. As much as I love Elena and Jeremy, I don't really know them; Alaric does."

"He seems very protective of you," she noted.

Kurt shrugged. "We've declared mutual interest."

Liz's mouth fell open.

Kurt shifted uncomfortably. "Please forgive me if I was too forward. I just..." he trailed off, pursing his lips. "May I be completely honest with you?"

It was rare for a woman in her position to hear those words, and she welcomed them. She spread her hands on her desk. "By all means."

"I like you, Elizabeth. I trust you. I don't know why, and I'm usually much more reticent about being so open with someone I've just met, but, for whatever reason, I want to be open with you. I'd very much like the privilege of calling you my friend."

Liz's eyes widened. She had absolutely no doubt that he meant his words. Honestly, she was relieved, for she felt much the same way. From the moment she had first met him, she had felt relaxed in his presence. She had been very hopeful that he would be staying in town, and was thrilled to know that would be the case.

The truth of the matter was that she didn't have many friends. Oh, she knew everyone in Mystic Falls, and she had acquaintances and political allies, but not friends. Most people, though they respected her office and her ability, were put off by the same. It wasn't easy to be friends with someone who basically ran the town, who knew where the literal and figurative bodies were buried, who knew the secrets people desperately tried to keep hidden.

She'd been very lonely ever since her divorce. She had believed she and Damon had a strong friendship, and even though she now knew he was a vampire, a part of her continued to want to be his friend, though she knew he was most likely a psychopath.

Caroline was almost an adult. How many nights had she sat at home and watched as her daughter left the house to meet with her friends? How many times had she longed to pick up the phone before glumly remembering she had no one to call?

"I feel the same way," she finally said.

Kurt smiled, very pleased, but then frowned. "Does what I said about Alaric trouble you?"

"Of course not," she immediately denied. "I told you yesterday that I have no issues with gay people, and I meant it." She paused. "However, I should probably tell you something before you hear it from someone else. You said you understood the nature of small towns."

He nodded.

She sighed. "My husband of twenty years announced he was gay, divorced me, and then left town."

Kurt gave an exaggerated blink. "What an asshole."

Her mouth fell open. She might not have known Kurt well, but she hadn't gotten the impression he was one to swear.

"Please forgive me," Kurt said. "I sometimes allow my temper to get the better of me. I know nothing about your situation, of course, other than what you've just told me, but I'm personally appalled by your former husband's actions."

He paused. "Whether or not he realized his sexuality prior to marrying you, or whether it came later, he owed you honesty." His voice gentled. "I assume you had no idea?"

She pressed her lips together and shook her head, willing away the tears which had sprung in her eyes. No, she hadn't known. She hadn't even suspected. For the past few years, that fact had caused her to question many things about herself, including her physical attractiveness, her mental faculties, her intuition, and her investigative capabilities. Bill's announcement had completely undermined her belief in herself.

She was mostly over it, but it was an old wound which had merely scabbed over, not healed. She held a lot of anger toward Bill, but what hurt her most was the complete disinterest he had since exhibited toward their daughter.

"It wasn't your fault," Kurt said quietly but firmly. He raised his hand to offset her meager protest. "It wasn't," he insisted. "I won't pretend to understand him or his pain, and I'm sure that he has it, but what he did is inexcusable. I know that he comes from a different generation than my own, a time in which sexuality wasn't really discussed, but the bottom line is that he purposefully deceived you. You don't wake up one morning, decide you're gay, and divorce your wife and leave your family."

Liz didn't know until just that moment how badly she had needed to hear those words.

"There was a boy in high school," Kurt said, his voice hazy with memory. "He was gay but didn't want to be, and took particular exception to the fact that I was open about it. Of course, I couldn't have hidden it even had I wanted, and I never did. He hated me but, even more, he hated himself because he wanted the freedom that I enjoyed, that I had fought so very hard to have."

Kurt looked away, staring blankly at the wall. "He convinced himself he was in love with me, but that was never true. It wasn't me he wanted, but my life. He wanted the supportive father I had, the wonderful friends I still have, and the life he felt he was owed."

Liz had a bad feeling.

"One day, not long after my father's first heart attack, I had had enough of this boy's behavior and confronted him in the locker room." His eyes met hers. "He raped me."

All of the blood rushed from her face and into her feet. She closed her hands into fists to stop the trembling.

"I've only ever told that to one other person," he whispered, "and that was just two days ago." He gave her a weak smile. "Thank you for playing the role of my confessor today."

She shook her head, unable to fathom this man before her, of what he had experienced, of the trust he was evincing in her. "You never told your father?"

He shook his head. "It would have killed him, perhaps even literally. At the very least, he would have killed my rapist."

Liz didn't understand why the latter should be considered the bad thing. If anyone had done that to her child, she would have made sure the body was never found.

"I couldn't do that to him," Kurt continued. "You see, my father was really the only one who never believed I was fragile. Everyone else always thought I was so delicate and helpless. I didn't even really begin puberty until my junior year. When it happened, however, my father was at his most fragile." He shrugged. "So I kept it to myself." He exhaled. "It probably wasn't the wisest decision, but it was the one I made."

"What about the rapist?"

"He killed himself the next year," Kurt said, voice devoid of any inflection.

Nothing more need be said about him then, she decided. "And Sam?" she gently asked.

He shook his head. "Sam could have handled it, but I couldn't have. It would have changed how he looked at me. Not necessarily in a negative light, but it would have changed things, and I was happy with our relationship." He sighed. "I don't think I'll ever be that happy again," he said wistfully. He cleared his throat. "I like Alaric. I'm happy that he'll be there with me for the children. Something may happen, or nothing might happen. Either way, I'll be fine."

"Will you tell him?" Even as she asked the question, she felt like a ghoul for doing so.

"Probably not," Kurt said, "at least not until we know each other much better. One thing I understand clearly about Alaric is that he fancies himself a rescuer, and that's fine, but I'm not a damsel in distress. I've been rescuing myself for a long time now."

Her respect for this man reached proportions she didn't know were possible, but she also sensed he was holding back, that he had some agenda for this meeting.

"Liz," he began, "I know about the vampires."

Well, she certainly hadn't expected that.

* * *

**End Notes**: So, there's big reveal of what Kurt confided to Quinn some chapters back. Yes, David Karofsky raped Kurt in that locker room. This won't be a huge plot point, but it will explain some of Kurt's behavior and is thus relevant. It also won't be discussed in detail. If the chapter triggered any reader, I apologize, but I wanted the impact it provided. Sometimes I feel that authors warn for absolutely everything and there are no surprises or plot twists in fanfiction.

Also, this serves to show that Kurt, while powerful, is not omnipotent. He can be killed. He can be hurt. Karofsky hurt him.

As always, I welcome comments.


	13. Wheat from Chaff

Liz stared at him as her mind raced, wanting to demand he further explain himself, but understanding his opening parry was designed to unseat her, probably in a bid of intelligence gathering. She could appreciate that tactic; she often used it herself.

She opted for silence, knowing it was sometimes the greatest weapon in one's arsenal. She wondered just how much he knew and who had told him. Undoubtedly it had been Elena, Jeremy, or Alaric, or some combination thereof. She was unsure whether to be grateful that she had another potential ally in this war, or if Kurt was merely another opponent she would have to face.

She was disappointed that she was the only one unnerved by the quiet. Kurt appeared as though he could have cared less. In fact, he looked faintly bemused, as if he knew what she was doing and was more than happy to wait her out.

She suppressed a sigh and refrained from shaking her head in consternation. She had lost this round.

"How much do you know?" she asked evenly.

"Probably more than you," he said, though his tone was inoffensive. Again, his eyes met hers. "This isn't my first time at this particular rodeo."

What the hell did that mean?

"I'm a witch."

She blinked. "Huh?"

* * *

Brittany stared at the closed office door, frowning in concentration, distressed and annoyed when she ascertained Kurt had sealed the room.

Why would he do that?

Unless he was hiding something.

Oh.

She had always suspected there was something he had never told her. Someone or something long ago had hurt him, and he had kept it to himself, most likely to protect her.

Or to protect someone _from _her.

_Oh_.

But what was it?

She was sure Santana didn't know what it was, or Santana would have told her. Their mutual radio silence had been agreed upon long ago, but Kurt wasn't covered by it. If Santana knew about whatever this was, she wouldn't have been able to keep it to herself; she would have demanded retribution and asked Brittany for help.

She didn't know. Santana didn't know.

Kurt wasn't that close with Mercedes anymore, so she was out.

Kurt didn't tell personal things to many people, and that definitely included Finn and Rachel. He trusted them, but only so far, and not with secrets.

Sam might have known, Uncle Burt as well, but they were gone and had taken their secrets to the grave, as was only right. Even had they lived, they never would have exposed Kurt.

Quinn was the only logical confidant, and suddenly Brittany was _aware_ that whatever this information was, Quinn was in possession of it. She knew this to be true.

She also knew that there was no hope of anyone extracting that information. Under no circumstances would Quinn ever betray Kurt. He was perhaps the only person on the face of the earth to whom she held such allegiance. Quinn would go to the wall for Kurt, using every weapon at her disposal; she could be, and had been, utterly ruthless when the situation demanded.

Brittany could respect that. She also respected Kurt and his privacy, which was why she would force herself to let this go. Kurt would tell her when he was ready and not a moment before. That was his decision and she would not take it from him. She would never mention this to Santana, whose relentlessness knew no bounds.

Still, she wondered. She worried.

And she feared.

What could be so bad that Kurt wouldn't tell her? What was he afraid she would do?

It had to have been awful. There was no other explanation.

Kurt wasn't a devious person, but he was secretive. She didn't fear that he had acted out of malice, but was terrified something had been perpetrated against him, something over which he'd had no control or held himself accountable for creating.

He really was such a martyr sometimes.

Why was he telling the sheriff and not her?

It must have been part of some plan, she realized, something designed to form some kind of alliance, which suggested Kurt considered Elizabeth Forbes to be a major player in all of this.

Or he thought of her as a friend.

That bothered Brittany. Elena and Jeremy were okay because they were Kurt's family and would soon be thought of as such by the others. Alaric was acceptable because he was a potential love interest who had been temporarily friend-zoned, though Brittany doubted it would last long. Elizabeth Forbes, however, was a wild card.

Obviously, Kurt saw something in the woman. It had been apparent just from their greeting, how pleased they had appeared to see one another.

It was odd, now that she thought about it, but none of them had close friends outside their small circle. Even within that circle, friendships were tenuous. Each of the girls, herself included, adored Kurt beyond reason, but had not much use for each other. Finn and Rachel loved Kurt unreservedly, but Brittany suspected Kurt would never really believe that.

After high school, Puck had only stayed in contact with Sam, and thus with Kurt. Mike, Matt, and Artie had disappeared into the ether. No one knew where Tina was, except possibly Kurt.

Kurt still spoke with Coach. Their relationship had always been strange.

Holiday emails were exchanged with Schuester, who had gone on to marry Pillsbury and have the requisite two children, adorable house, cuddly dog, and irritating cat.

No one else had really come close to penetrating their circle, save Blaine Anderson, who was promptly ejected after only a handful of months and rightfully so.

They were alone, adrift in the world. They had only each other to whom they could cling - whether that of their own creation or some other force was unknown - yet they didn't cling.

Still, they couldn't escape their associations. Finn and Rachel had married. Kurt and Sam had been as good as married. She and Santana would one day find their back to each other. Mike and Artie had never gotten over Tina, who had never gotten over them, but had put an entire world between them. Quinn and Puck had never had successful relationships with anyone after high school. Matt continued to linger on the periphery, as he had before leaving McKinley, but he was still one of their own.

Friends, lovers, family - each member had loved and lost some measure of all three, yet they still each other, even if they didn't speak to one another. Sometimes Brittany wondered if they were blessed or cursed. She doubted she'd ever have the answer. She wasn't sure she wanted one.

Yet one simple phone call from a lawyer had changed everything.

Now there were three new people, people who knew about them, who understood what they were, and didn't fear them. Elena and Jeremy would be adopted as the younger siblings. Everyone, from Finn and Rachel and even Santana was now, or soon would be, dedicated to those children, just as Cosette was regarded as the child of the collective.

Alaric could never replace Sam and he was likely to be mistrusted for a long time, particularly by Finn and Santana, but room would be made. He would be accepted, even if things between he and Kurt never manifested or failed altogether.

It was just the way things were, the way they had always been, but Elizabeth Forbes was throwing a wrench in the works. Well, truthfully, Kurt was doing it, but he must have had a reason. He never did anything without one.

Just what _had_ he seen something in Elizabeth Forbes, Brittany wondered. What had made him trust the woman? Kurt didn't give his trust easily nor as a matter of course. It was a precious commodity, and once you lost it, heaven help you, because no one else would.

"You look worried," Alaric whispered.

"I am."

"Why?" Elena hissed.

They were sitting alongside each other on the bench in the foyer, waiting for Kurt to emerge. Brittany had cast a privacy spell that would allow that obnoxious secretary to ignore them.

"Kurt sealed the room," she said. "He's blocked our connection."

"Why would he do that?" asked a bewildered Jeremy.

"What do you think he's telling her?" Alaric prompted.

Brittany stared at him. "Everything."

* * *

"A witch?" she dumbly repeated. "Like the Bennetts?"

"Not like them, no," Kurt replied. He briefly launched into his now patented spiel, explaining how magic was practiced differently depending on the caster. "I'm much more powerful."

"Why are you here?"

"The children," he promptly answered, "and for no other reason. They're my family, Elizabeth, much like Caroline is yours. I don't do well when my family is threatened."

This she understood. "Do you see me as a threat?"

"Of course not," he scoffed. "If I did, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

He omitted the part where he would have simply eliminated her had he deemed her such, but she heard the unvoiced words.

"I'm to be an ally, then?" she asked crisply.

"A friend," he whispered. "I was nothing but honest when I said I wanted a friend, Elizabeth, and I want it to be you."

"Why?" Liz asked helplessly, throwing up her hands. "What's so special about me? I can't really help you, Kurt, no matter how much I might want. I'm not a witch. I have no...special skills when it comes the supernatural. If anything, I'm a detriment. I could be used against you."

His eyes raised to meet her. "Elizabeth, I'm not Damon."

She sucked in a sharp breath. "What do you know about him?"

"Probably more than you do," Kurt replied. "I know he's in love with Elena. I know he has a contentious relationship with his brother." He paused. "I know he's already killed Jeremy and Alaric."

Her eyes bulged. "What?"

"You know about the rings."

She blinked, frowning. "Yes, now that you mention them, but I haven't thought of them consciously in quite some time, and I had no idea they'd had to be _used_." She tilted her head. "And how did Alaric get one?"

"From Isobel."

"His ex-wife?"

He nodded. "And Elena's biological mother."

Liz paled. "Does Elena know?"

"She does," he said. "I don't believe she's happy with the information, and she probably wishes she _didn't _know, but yes."

Her lips pursed. "Damon killed them."

Kurt's eyes grew stormy and Elizabeth would have sworn that even she could sense the magic swirling about him. She became concerned.

"Kurt," she asked softly, "who else did he kill?"

Kurt swallowed and turned away from her. "Isobel herself, turning her into a vampire, and a friend of mine, a vampire named Lexi Branson."

Elizabeth was floored. "A vampire was your friend?" She had no idea how to process that.

Kurt sighed gently. "Elizabeth, I know about the Council, about your oaths, and I respect that, but how much do you _truly_ know about vampires?"

Faced with such a pointed question, she found she had no ready answers. "Not much," she finally, and reluctantly, admitted.

"How much do you _want_ to know?"

Well, that was the question, wasn't it? She knew how to kill vampires. She understood the victimology of those they murdered. She knew about the legends of her town.

Did she understand the _psychology_ of vampires, she asked herself? No, not really.

She should know, she decided, considering her daughter had been turned into one. Regardless of how she felt about that, and she still wasn't quite sure, forewarned was forearmed.

"Whatever you feel comfortable telling me."

He raised a brow. "That will be quite a telling, indeed. Buckle up."

* * *

Ten minutes later, Liz was glad she was sitting down.

"Three kinds of vampires?" she whispered.

"At least," Kurt affirmed. "There could be more. There probably are." He paused. "It's best if you consider them as totally different species, ones who rarely interact. They are wary of each other and tend to stay as separated as possible. When they meet, carnage inevitably ensues, so while it might be temporarily helpful to have one of the other species come to town, I wouldn't recommend it."

"Werewolves?" she asked.

"Tend to be pretty much the same across the board, although there are various mythologies."

She slowly shook her head. "And, as you earlier explained, different kinds of witches."

He nodded. "Many types, some with more power than others. Bonnie, for example, is very powerful for her particular type of witch."

"And you?"

He met her eyes with a steady gaze. "I am perhaps the most powerful witch walking the planet."

She stared.

"Please don't be frightened of me," he said quietly.

She wasn't. She really wasn't, and said as much.

He heaved a soft sigh of relief. "I'm glad."

"Do you have specific powers?" she asked, changing the subject slightly. "From what I know of the Bennett witches, their magic is...systemic."

He gave a mild shrug. "I think that's an accurate statement, and, yes, I do have specific powers. The ones I use most frequently are telekinesis, pyrokinesis, telepathy, and teleportation."

Her mouth fell open and Kurt knew she had overloaded. It would save time and countless denials if he simply demonstrated his abilities. To that end, he described in detail one of her favorite childhood memories of her mother. He then popped about the room, disappearing and reappearing in different locations in the blink of an eye. Finally, two large fireballs appeared in his hands. He shook them, and the fireballs evaporated.

They gazed at each other for several moments.

"You don't understand how I, with all of this power, allowed myself to be raped."

She blinked harshly. "That is most definitely not the word I would use," she thundered.

He held up a hand. "Apologies. It was a poor choice on my part, but your question is valid." He cleared his throat. "I'm not omnipotent, Elizabeth, nor am I immortal. Despite my magic, I'm still human. I can be hurt. I can be killed. I can be taken by surprise. I can freeze when something unimaginable occurs."

He sat down and looked at his hands, folded in his lap. "That was unimaginable. I never..." He shook his head in frustration. "It wasn't until after that I realized what he truly thought of me. Prior to that, I thought he was a homophobic bully." His eyes turned distant. "Then, in the blink of an eye, everything changed."

He looked at her. "It's funny how that can happen. It's strange how we use that phrase as though it's meaningless, when it's so very true. In a single instant, _everything_ can change: your thoughts about yourself, the people you know, your friends and family, your home, your view of the world and your place within it. Those can all change in the space of a second."

He ran his tongue over dry, chapped lips. "I'm telepathic, but I never saw it coming. I'm empathic, but I never felt the rage he held for me. I'm enormously powerful, but I was so trapped by my fear and disbelief, I could do nothing." He bit his lip so harshly he drew blood. "When the attack began, I astral projected out of my body and watched it take place."

She gagged, close to retching.

"I couldn't get back in," he continued, his voice quizzical and so very innocent. "I tried, but nothing worked. It wasn't until later, much later, that I realized it was my magic's way of trying to protect me. I saw the rape, but I didn't feel it. I felt the effects afterward, yes, but I didn't feel the attack. I'm grateful for that. It didn't erase the violation, but it was somewhat muted."

"I can't," she rasped, "I can't even imagine."

"I hope you never have to."

She closed her eyes and shuddered.

"I'm vulnerable, Elizabeth," he said. "We all are. There are things, forces in this world, that are beyond our control. It's not easy to accept, and I certainly haven't managed that well, but ,in my experience, I've found that it's how you deal with the ramifications that defines your character."

She nodded weakly.

"I'm a good person," Kurt said. "I don't use my magic against people unless it's in defense of myself or another, and by that I mean mortal peril. I've never killed a human with my magic. To do so, to surrender myself so completely to my power, would cost me my own humanity. It's a line I don't ever want to cross."

She nodded firmly, appreciating his words. She had taken lives in the course of her duty, and though she didn't regret her actions, she deeply regretted they had been necessary. She understood the cost she had paid, and she hoped Kurt would never have to share it with her.

"You speak of your magic as thought it's a separate entity," she observed.

He nodded. "It's difficult to voice just what magic is. I am magic. I own my magic. However, I am also keenly aware that it is a gift; that I was chosen, for whatever reason, to wield it. When I do, I am conscious that my magic has a purpose of its own and that I must respect it."

She dimly comprehended what he was trying to communicate, but suspected she would never truly understand.

"And your friend? Lexi?"

"Caroline would have considered Lexi to be ancient. Damon and Stefan would have considered her a tribal elder, so to speak. Older vampires would have considered her a child." He sighed gently. "She was my friend. She was very kind to me.

"Vampires and witches are not, by our very natures, allies. We're aware of the power we hold over each other, that we can kill each other." He paused. "That doesn't mean, however, that every witch and every vampire is stereotypical of their respective cohorts."

She supposed she could understand that. She cautiously nodded.

"When a vampire of the kind of which Lexi was is turned," he continued, "the bloodlust is insatiable. No matter much their consciences torture them - oh, yes, they have consciences - they have to feed to survive. It is not until much later, years, that they begin to understand they don't have to kill in order to feed unless they desire to do so. Lexi hadn't killed for over three centuries. She felt remorse for those she had killed, but, at the time, she had no control."

That made sense to Elizabeth, despite her disgust.

"With this particular type of vampire, age is the ruling factor. The older a vampire grows, the more powerful they become. Other factors influence this, including what type of person they were when human, specifically their strength of will."

Liz tilted her head thoughtfully, surprised and ashamed she hadn't considered this point before. In terms of personality, Caroline had not drastically changed.

"Lexi was a good person, Elizabeth," Kurt said softly, eyes on the floor. "She was moral. She was loyal to a fault. She would never have hesitated to sacrifice herself to protect one she loved. Her strength of will was truly awesome. She was kind and smart and so funny. While I was always cognizant that she was a vampire, I can honestly say that word would have been somewhere around the twentieth I would have used to describe her." His voice was tinged with fondness, sorrow, and rage. "Damon will pay for this."

"Why did he kill her?" she asked baldly.

"To throw suspicion off of himself while simultaneously impressing you."

Her brows raised sharply. "Me?"

Kurt hesitated for a moment. "What I'm about to say, you probably don't want to hear, but neither do I want to lie to you."

She nodded.

"Damon likes you, Elizabeth. He truly does. In fact, I think you're probably the first friend he's made in fifty years. His motives were spurious and he committed unspeakable acts, but his affection for you was and remains genuine."

She had no idea what to say, so she said nothing.

Kurt smirked. "He paid me a visit last night, you see, during the course of which I explained to him my displeasure. We traded barbs, him most ineffectually, I slapped him with an impotence curse, and then threw him down the stairs."

She stared at him for what seemed like minutes before her lips trembled and she snorted, which soon segued to outright hysterical laughter. "You did what!" she roared with glee.

Kurt buffed his nails on his pants. "That was only the beginning. He's hurt my family. He's been stalking Elena and playing with her emotions. I've already recounted his sins against Jeremy and Alaric." He sighed. "It's difficult, however, because he and Alaric are friends. Damon was...incensed...when he smelled Alaric on me. He was outraged that I had trespassed on what he considers his."

"Alaric is his?" Liz drawled.

Kurt waved a hand. "So Damon believed. Now he thinks Alaric is mine, and I'm not disabusing him of that notion because it is amusing for me not to do so."

Liz was vastly bemused. "And you have even more in store for him?"

Kurt hesitated. "I offered him a conditional alliance, and he's currently considering it. He knows it's his best shot. That doesn't mean, however, that I won't punish him for his transgressions."

"You really think he'll work with you?" Liz asked dubiously.

He shrugged. "It's in his best interests, and Damon always does what's best for him. He's also overly impressed with himself, far too impetuous, and overly concerned with his own gratification. I prefer to have him close so that I can keep an eye on him. He might be powerful compared to the other vampires in this town, but he's practically an infant. I could incinerate him with a thought and he knows it. I'm willing to work with him, but I will never trust him."

"I'm furious with myself for believing him," Liz hissed, two spots of color emerging high on her cheeks.

"No," Kurt gently argued, "you're angry for caring about him, and even knowing that he cares for you in return can't assuage that."

He internally debated telling her that it had been Damon who had turned Caroline, but he didn't see how it would benefit him. Elizabeth would be devastated and outraged, becoming irrational. Despite knowing for a fact that Damon cared about her, he wouldn't hesitate to kill her if she became a threat to him. It was simply his nature.

Kurt wouldn't engineer a situation which would bring harm to the woman, so he kept silent.

"You could dispose of him so easily?" she pressed.

"He's insignificant," Kurt said coldly. "The only reason I haven't killed him is because it would hurt Elena and Alaric, and I won't do that, no matter how distasteful I find their respective relationships with him." He paused. "Also because he could be a valuable pawn to me. He poses no danger. I can't be compelled."

"Really?" she asked, obviously both intrigued and jealous.

"It's a byproduct of my telepathy." He smirked. "I can make sure you're immune, as well. It's a simple charm."

She grinned.

* * *

Twenty minutes after entering Elizabeth's office, Kurt reemerged with the woman in two, both of them whispering to each other and snickering, their arms linked.

Hr turned and smiled widely at his cousins, Alaric, and Brittany, all of whom, despite their curiosity and worry, smiled back.

Abby stared lustfully at Kurt, who had finally had enough and sneered.

"Newsflash, sweetie. I couldn't be more gay if my name was Gay Gayerson. Translation: I like penises. Large ones are preferable."

Her mouth fell open.

"If you were the last person on the face of the earth, I'd demand a recount," he cheerfully added. "Not a _chance_."

He turned back toward Elizabeth, who was braying like a hyena, patted her hand, and promised to call her later.

He then strutted toward his family, hips set on maximum sway just to further entice and infuriate Abby. Sure, he was grown and now the head of a family, but he was still a bitch, and he was totally okay with that.

He wrapped an arm around Brittany's waist, who laid her head on his shoulder. He suppressed a snicker when Alaric sneered triumphantly at Abby, who flushed and glared down at her desk.

"Let's continue that tour!" Kurt chirped.

They exited the building, Jeremy and Elena exchanging wheezing whispers, as Alaric quickly flocked to Kurt. Liz's loud cackling serenaded them as they departed.


End file.
